


Stranger Things Happen to Will Van de Kamp

by MoonMoon91



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonMoon91/pseuds/MoonMoon91
Summary: Will Van de Kamp's life is turned upside down by an unknown assailant. Now it's a race to find out where he truly comes from, as danger stalks after him. All the while, the people WIll races to find are searching for him.





	1. Chapter 1

At three-thirty, every Thursday, this particular classroom was occupied by the same three students of Patterson High School. It was situated just outside of Casper, Wyoming, in the small town of Hanker. The club name was labeled 'The Examination Club.' Over the two years of the club being active, the same three students had spent every Thursday in the room. They were the founders and original members. Only one other student had turned up once, but had mistaken the room number, looking for the debate club. She had disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

'These guys are the bomb, I swear!' One of the three said, the boy with the frizz of blond hair and tanned complexion. Typically dressing in a white t-shirt that slurred the government, or a computer joke which he had to explain five times a day, to people who really didn't care. His name was Dexter Miller. Seen as the boy who would one day live in an RV on his parents drive, spouting enthusiastic conspiracy theories. He was hovering over a ripped magazine spread with the second member, a taller boy of Japanese descent, named Isaac Akimado, who had found the article about to be used in paper mache of the school's mascot. Isaac was skinny as could be with tufts of black hair and a habit to speak his opinion. A bad habit with plenty of students whom Isaac disliked. 

'Say 'the bomb' again, I dare you.' Isaac said with a grin, he too enjoying the ideas of the author. The name had been ripped at the foot of the spread, along with the remaining article. Going by the various sections, the piece had been written by a group. 

'How have we not found this before?' Dexter cried, looking between Isaac and the other boy. 'The Zoo hypothesis, amazing! You'll have to find the rest of the piece, Akimado.'

Isaac looked deflated. 'It's probably been glued to the Ram's head that got wrecked by Roosevelt High. We have to find the author's online page, there will be loads more.' Isaac turned to the boy sitting at the single computer bank in the room. 'Hey, Van de Kamp! What's up, you go crazier for this than Dexy does.' 

William looked up from the computer for a brief moment and smiled at his friends. It was enough to sate them before they re-examined the article. William turned back to the computer and peered through his glasses. The result of too much computer and television time, his mother said. His father said his mind probably was a computer by now. They might not be wrong. How else would he be able to find these locations? At these moments exactly? Upon plugging his camera into the computer, he uploaded all the images he had taken through the valley beyond his family's ranch, on the edge of Hanker. The landscape stretched on forever, whether at night or day, with the same shape hovering high above. Triangular and just out of focus. A dark blur, visible even at night. Always hovering, always still. Like a bird that had been frozen. 

Will could find it whenever. Not when he wanted to, mind. But whenever he felt it. A tingle in his chest, like an instinct he had been born with. More commonly now, he climbed out of bed and snuck out with his camera. He would walk for miles at night, even beginning to get closer to the mountains. Whenever it called, he would find it. 

The camera was the only thing to stop it from being just dreams or dangerous hallucinations.

Will leaned back in his seat with a deep huff. Strange things like this, William kept to himself. His friends knew there was something different about him. After the fifth grade rumor of him being an alien, he kept all strange factors to himself. If something strange occurred in Patterson high, a phrase was a common as dust around here: Stranger things happen to Will Van de Kamp. His family were never allowed to view his pictures. His mother would go crazy at the idea of him sneaking out at night. Dexter was convinced the images were a satellite projection, to stir up ideas of aliens to mask secret aircraft tests. Isaac thought it could be just a reflection. A consistent reflection. 

Will was the shortest of the group, with thick dark brown hair, a notable nose, and shining blue eyes. Family friends said he was the spitting image of his mother. A biological impossibility. They didn't know, but the Van de Kamp's had come clean on William's tenth birthday, about his adoption. After that it was swept under the rug. His mother would tear up if he mentioned it, and his father would scowl. They had done everything for him, save for giving birth. Maybe he did look like his mother, the woman who was god knows where. Or maybe his father. Questions had run through his head a thousand times and he had a thousand different scenarios to play as answers. 

'Hey, Will? Will!' William snapped out of his trance as Dexter got up. 'C'mon, don't you want to find the guys who wrote this stuff?' All through lunch they had poured over the piece, hiding in the back of the cafeteria with Tater tots. The pecking order was well established at Patterson High, like any other school across America. 

'Sure, hold on.' He saved his newly taken images and unplugged his camera, before he began to type. 

'What you got?' Isaac said, bounding over like a pup. The three of them were infamous throughout the school's student body and faculty as the 'spooky kids', researching aliens and all sorts of supposedly dumb theories. It was what they loved. 

'Hang on...there. The Zoo hypothesis? An article written by the group known as The Lone Gunmen. Check this stuff out.' Will moved back and allowed his friends to peer at the screen. The group had several of their published articles posted online, but no blog entries in the web page's existence. 

'Maybe they stick to magazine publications. Harder for the government to chase up paperwork than online data.' Isaac suggested, scrolling on the page. 

'There!' Dexter cried. 'Experimental aircraft! Causes mass belief in extraterrestrial visitation! There's the reason for your pictures, Joseph Nicephore Niepce!' Dexter said, laughing with a clap on Will's shoulder. They nicknamed him after the first person to take a photograph when they found his secret hobby. 

'I'll save the link, hang on.' Will sent a copy of the web page to each of their emails, just as the classroom door was pushed open, a teaching assistant warily looking in. 

'Sorry boys, closing shop early today. Staff meeting.' The teacher nodded out of the door. 'Head on home.' The boys collected their stuff, Will placing his camera in his rucksack, and absently picking up the article by the Lone Gunmen and tucking it in his pocket. They followed the route down the stairs and out of the broken emergency exit in the school's main building. The three wandered over to the bike shed. Although they were all fifteen, Isaac was the only one with a learner's permit. Will hadn't been interested in driving, and Dexter's family were radical environmentalists, who didn't own a car, and refused for Dexter to learn. But he worked part time in order to save up so he could learn. But for now the three stuck to bikes, as they had done since elementary school. 

'C'mon. Maybe tomorrow we could hit Benny's junk store. He has a stack of old magazines. Maybe we'll find more. Or eBay.' Dexter suggested as they rode out of the school grounds, following the main road of Hanker. It was only a small town. Dry and nearly forgotten by the rest of the world. Most lived on farm ranches, like Will, dotted around Casper county. But Issac lived in the center of town with his parents. They followed the streets until Isaac pulled off and dismounted. 

'Kiss your mom for me, Akimado.' Dexter grinned as the two continued. 

'We still going to the movies tomorrow?' Dexter asked as their bikes clanged onto the start of Maple and Oak. 

'Should be. After Benny's, though.' Said Will. 'I want to find more on phone tampering and surveillance.'

'Why? Got a secret admirer, Van de Kamp? Or have you decided to stalk Sarah Gellows rather than just stare at her in class?' Dexter grinned before gliding down a slope to the homestead his family owned. Will sent a rude hand gesture, but then waved and continued down the dusty road. Cars rarely passed, but he pulled to the side as a large red fire truck sped past, it's siren wailing. It was still light out, so Will figured he had time to observe what was going on. He picked up speed as the road descended into a light decline. His bag rubbed his back as he peddled faster, the siren fading. But as he skidded to a halt at the spot known as the cross roads. His stomach sank. One road lead to Casper. The other to his home. With such force he was surprised the bike chain did not snap, Will biked down the tree lined street, void of other homes. Until, in the distance, an orange mass was looming. His palms began to sweat, his stomach aching as he raced home, the siren, still calling him in. 

Not mom. Not dad. Not home. Not them, please.

His bike bounced over loose pebbles as he screeched onto the property. Cop cars and two fire trucks were stationed in front of the house, with emitted a thick black cloud of smoke and stung Will's eyes until they bled with tears. 

'Mom? Dad!' He cried. They weren't in there, he begged his mind. They would have gone into town. Dad needed a new wrench and mom needed groceries. Yeah, they would come home now in the car and pull him away as their home burned to the ground. 

'Mom! Dad!' He continued to scream over the hectic scene. A couple of cops ran towards him as he charged towards the homestead. 

'Mom! Mom! Dad!' He cried out, one cop grabbing him around the waist. 

'Son, calm down now-'

'Dad!'

'I'm sorry kid.' Another said. Will fought against the hands that tried to keep him at bay. His eyes continued to weep from the toxic smoke and the horrific scene before him. Everything he knew was dying right in front of him. The blaze seemed to go on for hours, in that single moment. Will thrust the bodies away from him and tumbled to the ground. He curled into a ball on the dusty road where he had played a thousand times, staring blankly ahead. The cops stood over him, not sure what to do. One mentioned a social worker, but Will didn't hear. His fingers traced the dust of the ground, unable to look up. 

He studied the numerous boot prints on the ground, the disregarded pebbles, and the crushed packet of Morley cigarettes a cop must have dropped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos on the previous chapter as well as bookmarks - I've decided to try and post these reguarly where I can, I'm just that interested in the story. Hope you enjoy, don't be afraid to drop a comment or a kudos!

Will first noticed the ache in his eyes, like they had not been blinked for years, dried and crusted. Next he realized the sheets were scratchy. Not the same soft ones his mom picked out from the store and managed to wash without breaking the machine, as he once did. Will opened his eyes gently, and slowly began to glance around. 

The room was stark, save for minimal furniture consisting of a bed, desk, and closet. He slowly pulled himself upright in the bed, aware of the redness of his eyes, his astonishing bed hair, and the feverish pain in his heart. He studied the dark marks that outline long removed pictures from the walls, but his mind could not focus long enough on anything to dull the pain. Will could have sit in that position for the rest of his lifetime, eyes forever raw as the image of the burning farmhouse was plastered behind eyelids forever more. He could just stay in this bed, and imagine the rest of his life the way it should have gone – living with mom and dad, helping the farm in the summer, finish high school with Dexter and Isaac, go on to college to do...whatever. Maybe one day search for his birth parents for some form of closure, but not until he was well into his twenties, maybe his thirties. Meet someone and settle down. But that life had burnt with his home.

Now there was only the pain, that would be clasped to his heart forever more. 

There was a light knock on the room's door, but Will did not move. He stared at the door with bloodshot eyes until the unknown person knocked again before creeping in. It was a woman whom he had never seen. Dressed smartly, her brown hair parted neatly. 

'You're awake.' She said. Will resisted the urge for strong sarcasm with a bite. 'Good. William, my name is Sherrie Lukas. I'm head social worker here.'

'Where is 'here'?' He asked, although he had an inkling. There was one childrens home anywhere near Hanker. 

'St. Oscar's home for boys. Now, my office is just at the bottom of the stairs. Why don't you use the bathroom to shower and meet me in there? So we can...talk.' She didn't stick around and was gone in a second, boot heels clanking down the stairs. Again, Will contemplated just staying in this bed forever more. He could construct a brilliant, perfect even, life for himself in his head. Only problem would be the bedsores after a while. But instead he found himself climbing out and collecting the pile of clothes on the desk. They were the one's he'd worn the other day, but freshly dry cleaned. Collecting them, he took Sherrie's suggestion and found the bathroom. The shower was somewhat grimy but the hot water was what he needed. 

Soot and sand were washed from his body, and the smell of his farm home seemed to sink down the drain as well, as if he'd never lived there. He stood under the spray for a considerable amount of time until he was past clean, just letting the water wash at his soul. He could not blink without seeing the burning mass, without knowing his parents were in there. He spun the taps for the nozzle stopped it's spray and he climbed out, rubbing ruefully at his dark hair and pulled on his t shirt and jeans from yesterday, and zipped up the pale green jacket. 

Sherrie Lukas's office was at the foot of the stairs, which were covered in various toys, from baseballs to toy cars. The house was eerily silent. The clock above her door read to be ten thirty, so all the other kids would be at school. St. Oscar's was a large complex, and quite old. The paint was peeling, and damage from soccer boots and reckless behavior hadn't been repaired. Will knocked once and entered, rather than linger as she had done outside his door. Sherrie sat behind a too large desk and hastily shuffled papers into a draw. 

'William, sit down. I just need to go over some formalities with you. And fill in some paper work. I haven't had a chance. You'd be a great help.'

Will sat opposite the desk, but did not speak, just allowed Sherrie to go over the papers. 

'Let me see…' She mumbled, her tongue pointing out slightly. 'Van de Kamp….Van de Kamp. Here. Born May 20th, 2001?' She glanced at Will who nodded slightly. 'You are aware of your...um, biological-'

'I know I was adopted.' Will stated, his heart aching more. Sherrie looked relieved, happy not to deal with more issues. 

'Okay then...adoption confirmed April 2002, um, residence until-'

'2002?' Will asked, his eyes darting up. 'I was 11 months old?'

'Is it wrong?' Sherrie asked, looking puzzled. She skimmed through the papers, clicking her tongue uncertainly. 'No it's right. You were 11 months old when placed in the Van de Kamp's care.'

Will sat there, feeling a new puncture wound, this time not as painful. 'I thought I was a new born when they'd gotten me….they never said.' 

'Its not uncommon to adopt children long after they are born.' Sherrie said, clearly keen to move on in the paper work. 'Now, education. Currently attending-'

'So, my mother kept me until I was nearly one,' Will said, sitting straight. The feeling of curiosity seemed to numb the pain of loss. 'Why? Does it say what happened? I thought she'd given me up willingly. Was she-'

'I'm sorry William, I can't discuss that with you. You were dealt with a closed adoption. And even if I knew details of your mother, the state of Wyoming, and others, make it so I wouldn't be able to tell you until you reach the age of 18. Now…'

For the next half hour, Will occasionally helped her fill in the blanks, all the while letting the discovery rush around in his head. He was deep in thought when Sherrie popped the bubble and interrupted. 

'Now, our driver will take you to school, it'll be good for you to catch the last few hours-'

'Wait, my home just burnt to the ground, my parents dead, and you expect me to go into school?' Will could tell his constant issue of interrupting her was getting on her last nerve. He wouldn't go – he couldn't face people staring, whispering. More so than usual. It would be unbearable. 

'William, grief is a horrible thing. We need you to continue with a set routine to help acclimatise to your new surroundings. School will do you some good-'

'Yeah, because calculus will help be a great place to channel my grief.' He bit at her. Sherrie narrowed her eyes at him. Despite her career choice, she clearly did not like working with children who fought back. 

'Like I said – our driver will take you school, and pick you up. I've scheduled a therapy session with out on site psychologist when you return. He will help you, William. He will.'

'Whatever.' He murmured in silent anger. He left the office, stalking out of the building and upstairs to retrieve the school bag slung over the desk chair. Will made his way into the complex's courtyard. Muddy basketball shoes and balls lay scattered around. A man of fifty was smoking by the emergency exit. Upon seeing Will, he gestured to the mini van visible in the distance. He had no desire to go, but Will climbed into the van and stared solemnly out the window the whole way to Patterson High. 

The deeper into Hanker they got, the more Will felt the twist in his gut increase. He glanced at hardware stores and the grocers, all where his parents shopped. He could not kid himself that he wasn't keeping an eye out for their family truck. But it was not parked by any of the stores, nor by the diner where the occasionally took him for the banana milkshakes. The driver pulled up besides the student drop off and Will climbed outside, without so much as a thank you or a goodbye. His mother would be appalled. 

She's not here. Nor is dad. Get used to it. You're alone. Maybe you're meant to be. Maybe your real parents changed their minds, got rid of you in the end, didn't they? 

He struck the words from his subconscious, from the dark little voice. Some students were milling about the entrance as Will took the stone steps two at a time. Some stared, mouths open, eyes wide. He kept his back to them and pushed open the doors. It was the middle of the lunch break, and disorientation took over him. Eyes peered and whispers were spoken in a hushed voice as he passed. Will reached his locker and dialed in his combination. It was bare save for his textbooks and an old magazine shoved in the bottom. Behind the metal door, he heard more whispers. Will remained with his face buried in his locker, as if searching fro something, but anyone passing could tell it was void of anything useful. 

There was a light rapping at the open locker, and slowly, Will brought it to a close to see a girl from his biology class. Sarah, her name was. Just yesterday he had stared at her as he always did, not a care in the world. Now looking at girls, or anything with interest, seemed utterly pointless. 

'Will? Um, hi. I wanted to say I'm sorry-'

She didn't have time to finish. Will slammed the locker shut, and all but sprinted away and up some stairs. The crowds parted magically for him, like in the bible stories his mother used to read when he was young. 

Tears began to spill overboard, and he ducked into the first room avalible. The library was sparse, in terms of people, despite a heavy lunch period, and rain beginning to drizzle outside. The librarian barely gave him a look, which he was grateful for. Staggering, he made his way to the back, to the computer terminals which all were vacant. He sat down but did not know what to do. Instead, Will stared blankly at the screen as it loaded. His hands were stuffed inside his pockets as he sat still. His left found a crumpled piece inside the pocket. Upon pulling it out, he found the article he and his friends had examined yesterday. Or was that years ago? Another lifetime?

Who were the authors again? The Lone Gunmen? Will typed the name into the search engine and attempted to distract himself, reading deeper and deeper into the theories and ideas until time itself bled away. Will did not hear bells chime for class. He stayed at the computer bank for hours, scrolling and typing. Typing and scrolling. His eyes read faster than he every read before, and soon he had covered the small portion of articles which were avalible online. He reached into his bag and grasped his camera, left in there from the previous day. Once plugged in, he next studied the images, and their mysterious shapes in the sky. The strange light patterns they emitted, and the shadows they cast. 

But the pictures were not a big enough distraction. Will found himself, quite surprisingly, researching adoption laws and rights to information. 

'Will?' 

With a jolt, he was snapped away from the trance, minimizing the web page out of habit to look up. Dexter and Isaac had appeared, and the few who had been in the library had disappeared. 

'What time is it?' Will asked, cursing the broken watch on his wrist. 

'Two forty-five.'Isaac replied, the two sitting down besides him, warily, Will noted. 

'How you feeling bud?' Dexter asked. Their concern was genuine, but Will stayed silent, as if he were to speak, then he would give too much realism to the truth. 

'...okay.' He managed to croak. Dexter lightly patted him on the back. 

'Everyone's been asking. Even Bernie Jacobs. I still told him to get lost, but even's he's feeling bad for you.' Will smiled lightly, and turned at the sound of clicking. Isaac had re opened the page on adoption rights Will had tried to hide. 

'What are you looking at?' He asked, squinting at the screen. 'You told us you weren't interested in your real parents?' Will stared at his friends, before finally closing the page fully. 

'I was just looking.'

'You're...not….' Dexter tried to force his throat to speak. 'Thinking of, you know, looking for them? Are you?'

'I don't know. If I want to, or if I'm trying to fill something.' Will's pocket buzzed. He pulled out his phone to see a message from St. Oscar's. The driver was outside with all the other students from the home. 'Gotta go.' He said simply, happy to get away from the questions of his adoption. His birth parents would not fill the hole left by his adopted ones. But maybe...just thinking about them seemed to make him feel better. 

Will had no recollection of them, of his real mother. Not many people can remember being eleven months old. But something in his mind said he should be able to remember, that he had it. Like it was something important he had to do. But he could not picture her face, nor did he even know his name. His parents had never said. He doubt they had even known. 

'Will, wait!' Isaac called. Will halted by the door of the library, grasping the handle. 'If you want to find them, we'll help you. You know that right?' Will nodded. Dexter nodded as well. 

'Yeah, we can find out what we need to. My cousin Shaun is adopted, y'know? His standard file tells you where he was born. It would be a start.' Will let the library door close fully, ignoring the second buzz in his pocket. 

'You mean, with that I could find them?' Both he and Isaac looked at Dexter. 

'Well, it would tell you where you were born. Any maybe we could get the original birth files, before your adoption.'

'How'd you plan we do that?' Isaac said. 'You can't hack your way into the school web page.'

'Well, then maybe we could steal the original documents.' Dexter suggested. It was far fetch. A dream and fantasy woven together. But Will hung on every word. He didn't know where he was originally born – he could have come from Alaska for all he knew. 

'From the adoption agency in your home town. They’d have to have it on record.' Dexter suggested, before all went silent. Will played with the thoughts in his head. Again, he had found a distraction from the grief. 

'You'd need the files from your adoptive parents, though.' Dexter added finally. And, as cliché as it felt to Will, a light bulb blinked in his mind. 

'Meet me at my place tonight. Nine. It'll be dark then. Bring a spade and flashlights.' Dexter and Isaac looked concerned, but Will fled the scene and made his way to the mini van belonging to St. Oscar's.

'Where have you been?' The driver snapped as Will climbed aboard. The others already seated didn't spare him half a glance. He sat in silence the whole way back to the complex, headphones plugged in as they passed the same stores, and diners as before. Will resisted the urge to look, to stare and dream. All the others ran as soon as the mini van came to a stop on the drive. Will slowly made his way to his room, not before Sherrie Lukas cornered him and guided him to the psychologist's office. 

'Hello, William.' He introduced himself as Dr. Brendan. A man of his mid forties and bald as an egg. For the next hour, he tried to assess Will's feeling through talking, and a hopeless discussion of Will's favorite things. But topics of basketball or video games did little. Next Dr. Brendan tried to discuss recent events with him, fully avoiding his own tragedy. Topics ranged from an airline crash last year, to the Texas art gallery bombing two days prior. But Will did not speak a single word. He stayed near silent the whole hour. By the end of the session, Dr. Brendan was rubbing his brow and sighing, his note pad nearly bare save from small scrunched up writing. Even if it had been the right ay up, will could not have read the words. But He was sure it would involve medication at some point.

Waving for Will to go, Dr. Brendan scribbled one more note before closing the pad. Will charged up the stairs and landed on the bed in the room he'd been allocated. New clothes and an odd assortment had been donated to his room from past residents. Thankfully, a phone charger was among the items. As the device charged, Will returned to the position he had been in upon waking up in the late morning. Just staring blankly ahead as the pain returned, now more questions without scenario answers to fill the void. 

Sherrie Lukas had stated he'd been eleven months old. Nearly a year old. Why had his mother given him away? Had she died? Was she unable to cope? Especially after looking after him for so long and seeing him grow? Had she kid herself she loved him, that she could raise a child? Was she young or old?

What of his father? Had he even been in the picture? Or was he absent, and Will had reminded his mother of a man she'd once known or grown to despise? His head began to ache horribly as he stretched his memory, for a glimpse, something that would allow him to see faces, ear a name, feel warmth, or a scent. 

But nothing came. They were completely vacant from his memory. 

Will did not beckon at the household call for supper. He stayed staring at the wall, aware he must looked deranged by now. Listing to the low click of the bedside clock, he waited until it was time to sneak out and return home. As he stared at the wall in a trance, he barely picked up on the stench of cigarettes that had not been present when he awoke that morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Night finally crept up on him. William's phone bleeped to indicate it was fully charged. The room had steadily grown dark over the hours and with no light, he stumbled as he reached for the switch. The room was suddenly alight, bathed in a soft yellow glow, and he blinked madly behind his glasses, before he began to change. An hour previously, a carer had come in with a clothes hamper. Will had changed into the pajamas that St. Oscar's had spare, and handed over his only clothes of the day. He made a small tale of a headache and tiredness. They didn't question it, and he had been left alone. 

Will picked up a spare set of clothes: dark jeans and a blue tee, and shrugging his green jacket on top and yanking on his maroon sneakers, before slowly creeping out of the room. His bag was slung over his back, with nothing but his camera inside. Something deep down told him he would want it on him. The stairwell was lightly lit, and he could vaguely hear some of the carers putting the smaller children to bed. Will closed his door silently, wary of any creaks. 

He peered through his glasses as he took each step one at a time, should he step on a particularly squeaky toy. A sound of approaching footsteps, and suddenly Will darted into the shadows as Sherrie Lukas passed by, with Dr. Brendan. They were speaking in hushed voices, but Will picked up on the phrase of 'Post-traumatic stress'. Hoping they were not discussing him, he darted from shadow to shadow, and unlatched the heavy front door. It creaked ominously and he held his breath, should Sherrie and Dr. Brendan investigate. But no hurried footsteps hounded and Will exhaled slowly, before creeping out and pulling the door closed. 

It would be locked when he got back, and he didn't know how to get back in without a key. He might end up hiding in the bike shed overnight and creeping in for breakfast. 

The night air was cool, and moonlight illuminated clouds above, beneath which a blanket of stars hid. The wind gently caressed his brown hair as he unhooked his bike in the shed, and began to peddle down the lane, back towards the cross roads, just outside of little old Hanker. The sidewalks in the town center were deserted, and very few buildings had lights on. The all night diner had only one car parked in front as he rode past. The 24-hour movie complex was quiet, with only two people outside, both smoking into the clean night's air. Will felt his stomach clench with every spin of he peddles, at the thought of what was next. It was the thrill of finding his birth records that kept him from dismounting and collapsing in a heap of tears for a patrol car to find. 

He peddled faster, and soon left streets of store fronts and small apartment blocks. Country lanes spread before him, trees swaying ever so lightly in the breeze, their leaves whispering good lucks. A fox cried in the distance, and Will followed the dark stretch of lonely road. He had never been on the road this late before. By himself at least. A trip to an out-of-state fair had brought him, his Mom and Dad back home late one night. He could remember the warmth of the truck, nestled against his mother's side as he sleepily counted the stars. He used the count the stars every night before bed. His mother had started that when he was convinced something living in his closet. 

'Close your eyes and picture the night. Count how many stars there are in your head. The more there are, then the monsters can't get you.' 

'Mom…' He whispered in the night at the memory. Now there were scarier things than monsters in closets. And now the sky seemed a stretch of black, clouds covering the stars from view. Will did not realize he had stopped his bike until there was another fox cry. This time closer. He shook his head and breathed in the earthy smelling wind deeply, before riding once again. Soon he reached the cross roads. Dusty, but trampled with the tires of heavy fire trucks from the day before. He held his breath, should the scent of smoke still be strong and rode as fast as he could, gliding down the curving road as he had done so many times. His father had taught him to ride his bike on this road. So many bumps and falterings, he remembered. And a light smile reached his lips. 

'There you are! Jeez, took your time!' A voice called out in the dark, which Will recognized as Isaac. Followed by a thump, as Dexter must have nudged him in the chest. But Will could not respond as he saw the state of his home. The front all blackened and crumbling, the door broken down. How could it start? His dad was a whiz with electrics, and his mother always checked the smoke alarms. What could have caused it? His chest twisted and ached. 

'You alright, buddy?' Dexter called out. Will threw his bike to the ground. 

'Yeah. Let's get this over with. Did you bring what I asked?' Three flashlights suddenly bloomed, and Will saw the spade in Isaac's hands. Dexter handed one flash light over to Will and they moved towards the house. Will tugged the collar of his tee over his nose as the sickening smell of stale smoke invaded his senses. 

'Leave the spade by the bikes. We need to find the key first.' Will said, placing one foot on the porch steps. 

'What key?' Isaac said, a clatter as the spade dropped. 

'Dad hated safes. All important documents he put in a box and buried behind the barn. The key hung in the kitchen.' Will supplied the answer as he stepped through the front doors. It entered straight into the living room and his heart sank. Everything was burn black: the couches, walls, and shattered glass lay across the floor from broken windows and smashed frames. 

'Kitchen, yeah?' Dexter said, soot falling his his mass of blond frizz. Will nodded silently as he crouched. 'C'mon Akimado, give him some space.'

Isaac clapped Will's shoulder before following their friend into the remains of the kitchen. The two departed and Will moved over to his father's desk at the far end of the living room. Below, by the foot of the seat, Will picked up the smashed picture frame. He gently swiped the glass away with his coat sleeve, smearing a little soot on the grainy image. The three of them, when Will was around four years old, sitting on the family tractor. The three of them content, and his parents happy with the child they had been blessed with, as his mother had frequently put. Steven and Maria Van de Kamp had been everything Will could want or need. 

'Will! C'mere!' Isaac called and Will folded the image carefully, placing it in his coat pocket. He shone his flashlight along the ground as he went to the kitchen, the route no longer familiar at all. The kitchen was a blackened state, and by the extent of the damage, the fire must have started here. The two boys were shining their flashlights over small folded card pieces with numbers. 

'I thought they only put those out if it was murder.' Dexter breathed. Will's glasses began to fog up with his heavy breathing. 

'I can't think why they'd be there.' Isaac said, scratching his head, soot falling from his thin hair. 'Unless the cops think that...you know…'

'That they were murdered, not killed in a fire.' Will breathed. Above, the house seemed to crumble, as more damaged grit fell from the ceiling. 'C'mon. Find that key.' The hook where it normally sat by the back door had burnt to the floor. A rubble pile sat by the door, pieces of wood and kitchen cabinet made it up. 

'Look through there. I'll be back in a minute.' Will said and left the kitchen. He headed towards the staircase and gently placed one foot on the first step. It groaned loudly, but seemed able to hold his weight. One step at a time, Will, he thought to himself. There were barely any traces of the stair carpet left, he mused. The whole house had been affected, as upstairs was just as burnt as downstairs. 

Will gently crept up to his bedroom door and pushed it open. It swung slowly with a resounding creak, also, as if the house had suddenly aged thousands of years and yearned for rest. His room was exactly as he left it, Thursday morning. His bed unmade, books scattering the place. He lightly tapped the model Millennium Falcon hanging from the ceiling. It wavered in the air as he examined the room. He felt no urge to dig out any valuables that may be hanging. Instead he fished out clothes from hangers and draws, stuffing them in his backpack. All held a distinctive smell of smoke as he packed. He stopped mid-way and stepped up to his desk. Littered with school reports and assorted nick-knacks, Will peered at the science fair trophy on the surface. Paper clipped with it was a photo taken by his parents of him, Dexter and Isaac. His old life seemed to have burnt away in here. As he reached for the hunting photo of him and his dad, he heard a creak. 

Spinning around, Will peered in his blacken room to see nobody standing there. 

'Hello?' He whispered, but the house did not respond. 'Hello?' He called again. Nobody was going to be here, a burned out house. But Will couldn't shake the feeling something had been watching him. 

'Van de Kamp! We got it!' Dexter cried up the stairs, and Will snatched his bag of clothes hurried back down the stairs. 'One key on a ring? C'mon!' Will pounded down and he three ran from the house, as if it was the source of ghost stories and horror tales. 

'This way!' Will shouted as they ran. He scooped up the discarded spade and they ran across the land towards the barn, nestled in the thin lining of trees not too many steps from the house. They scooted around the back of the barn and Will stood next to an old barrel, remembering watching his father bury the box. He pushed the barrel over, and water from the broken guttering splashed over the grass like early morning dew. He stabbed the earth repeatedly, trying to force the spade to stick. Isaac and Dexter watched silently as Will seemed to project anger into the ground, stabbing until soon clumps were movable. But Will was not angry, he was spooked. He felt a need to get out of the area as quickly possible.

'Will, you sure it's here?' Isaac asked as Will began to drip with sweat, his search fruitless. 

'I know it's here.' And soon enough, there was a clang of metal on metal. He tossed away the spade and began to scramble madly in the dirt, like a puppy digging for bones. His hands clasped the strong box and the others helped him in yanking it from the dirt that hugged it so tight. With a strong tug, the box sat on the edge of the hole, the flashlights gleaming over it. 

'Key.' Will said, Dexter fishing it out of his pocket. The lock popped, and the lid sprung open, like buried treasure. The flashlights zoomed in on the contents, as Will rummaged for the plastic blue file he had glimpsed only once. 

'Like I said,' Will said at Dexter's intake of breath. 'Dad didn't trust safes. Nor did he trusts banks too much.' As inside the box, among important papers, sat several bundles. Will hesitated before clearing the money into his bag. If he were to search for his birth parents, he'd need money to get their. The odd dime down a couch in St. Oscar's wouldn't get him there. Where ever 'there' was. 

'Anything?' Isaac asked, clutching his light with two hands. And Will pulled out the plastic file, the blue glittering in the artificial light. Hands shaking, Will prepared to open the file. His life was certainly going to be different from now on. What was he supposed to do? Turn up on his parent's doorstep? And say what? 'Hi, I'm your long lost son you didn't want to raise. Remember me?' He snorted mentally at the stupidity of it. 

'Well? What does it say?' Dexter asked, before the cracking sound occurred. 

But then, a gunshot narrowly missed Will's head, slamming into the wall of a barn, and the three screamed as several more were fired. 

'Ohgodohgodohgod!' Isaac cried as the scrambled, the firing splashing against the side of the barn as they ran. Will felt his breath leave his chest and vow never to return as he ran towards their bikes. 

'The fu-' Dexter cried, before a bullet narrowly missed his foot. Clashes and clangs in the air as they collected their bikes, but did not follow the path from the house, bullets raining over their heads, missing by centimeters. 

'Into the trees, quick!' Isaac cried as they mounted their bikes within as little time as possible. As Will tried to swing his bag onto his back, he felt a bullet zip through the fabric in an almost comical zoom, before splashing against a tree. 

'GO!' Will screamed through the trees, the bullets halting for a moment as the trees provided their cover. Pounding behind them told their wither the attacker was close by, or their hearts would soon leap from their chests. 'GO GO GO GO!' Over wild roots and spouting weeds, their tires crushed the soil and they shot through the woodland, blood pumping in their ears as they awaited the next rain of bullets. 

'To mine! Quick!' Dexter screamed as they peddle through the forest. Dexter lived on the next homestead, a mile away. If they went through the trees, and whomever behind them did not know the area, they would not find Dexter's home unless they doubled back and tried to follow the road, but at night, it would be hard to see the turn off. In day it was nearly impossible. Dexter's parent's rarely left the house, so the path way was unattended. 

'Stay quiet!' Isaac hissed, his face milky, like the white of a bad egg. Their bike chains sang, but they did not say a word. Will felt bile rushing in his stomach, waiting to puncture the air, the acid feeling in his throat growing with each bumpy root. 

No bullets zoomed overhead and the forest stayed deathly quiet, but they rode as fast as they could. The moon slowly peered through clouds and highlighted their path as they swung from the forest and down a sloping lawn. A small home sat in the middle of the land, wild trees all around, and only one light gleaming in the sitting room window. Dexter rode forth and dismounted, unlocking a shed as quickly and quietly shaking hands would allow. 

'Bikes in here – quick!' He hissed and the bikes all stacked up, before they raced across the lawn and burst through the front door, Dexter locking it behind him. 

'Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.' Isaac began hyperventilating as they slid down the hallway's faintly yellow walls and collapsed on the floor. Will felt his heart about the tear from his chest, and buried his fingers in his hair as Dexter held a coat rack to steady himself, breathing slowly. 

'What-what was that? Who-what-did someone just try and shoot us?' Dexter asked. No one answered. Isaac was just muttering to himself, shaking his head and hiding tears. Will could not speak, as once he opened his mouth, he found himself charging to the Miller's downstairs bathroom, and deposited what was in his stomach in the U-bend. He emptied his stomach twice before there was nothing left. He pulled the chain and nearly sprinted backwards at the sight of his reflection. Pale as ice and eyes like a stuffed deer that had wandered too far up the road. 

Will splashed his face with warm water and slowly stepped out, his whole body acting as if it was experiencing zero-gravity. 

'Dexter? What in God's name are you doing?' A voice shouted down the staircase, a light switching on. 

'Basement! Quick!' Deter hissed, his skin color curdling as he hurried his friends through a door and down some wooden stairs. 

'Dexter!' Another voice, which belonged to Dexter's dad. 

'Nothing! Just-Just getting a snack!' His voice was quivering very noticeably, but Mr. Miller's slippers could be heard moving back to bed. Will and Isaac collapsed on the bean bags in the basement, as Dexter locked them in, as if a flimsy store-bought lock would keep out a maniac with a gun. Dexter collapsed on the only sofa, and they remained quiet for a while. 

Will clutched his bag tightly to his chest, his finger finding the bullet hole in the fabric. Less than five inches from his body. He would have fallen in the woods for that maniac to pick him up and finish the job. 

'Okay...okay...Van de Kamp, you better have a good reason for this!' Isaac said, breathing deeply. Will's head snapped up. 

'You think I know what's going on?' Not caring if the Miller's woke up to his voice. 

'Well they must have known you'd be there. Can hardly mistake us for a mountain lion, can they?' Will just stared at Isaac. Dexter glanced uncertainly between the two. 

'Well, maybe they didn't want Will to get...whatever was in the box.' Dexter was stuttering over his words; shock had taken over all of them. Will pondered Dexter's idea. Slowly, he pulled the blue folder from his backpack, the others watching wearily. Will pulled out the documents carefully, grateful the bullet had missed the papers. 

'What does it say? Will?' Isaac asked, shuffling closer. Will just stared in awe. All the information the Van de Kamp's had on him but never mentioned. 

'I-I was born in...Georgia.' He stated first, his throat dry. 

'Well, then we'll go to Georgia!' Dexter claimed. Anything to get him as far away from a manic with a gun as he could. 

'Wait...but I was adopted from...Washington?' He said finally, staring at the faded print. His adoption was settled by the adoption agency of Washington D.C. His parents had known where he'd come from. And didn't say. Will began flipping through the papers, addicted to the information he was receiving, but as hard as he could look, there were no names. The area disclosing the name of birth parents, the information was vacant. The care-worker had said he'd been given a closed adoption – there would be no name for the Van de Kamp's to find, or curiously probe. 

'There's no name – I don't even have a surname from them on here!' Will cried, and threw the papers back into his bag. He reminded himself of a bratty child who didn't get what they wanted. He relaxed his muscles and stared at the papers. He was oblivious to his friend's being in the room. 

'Someone didn't want you to get that file.' Isaac muttered. 

'Maybe not,' Dexter put in. Will lifted his head. 'Maybe there was something else in that box. Maybe your dad had something. If they look, they might have found it if that's the case. So maybe…'

'Maybe what?' Said Will. 

'Maybe...we could go and find your records. Washington is east. And I always wanted to see the White House.' Dexter tried a weak smile. Isaac glanced between the two. 

'What do you say?' Will asked his friend. Isaac sighed. 

'I said I'd help you… and if I do this I won't have to give you my Fantastic Four comic from that bet, right?'

Will's face broke into a smile and reached to Isaac's hand and shook it. 

'Deal. Washington...here we come.' The addiction to the information was driving Will crazy. He wanted to read those names right now. But he would get there. He didn't know how, or why they were targeted. But he would find out where he came from, and who had left him behind. 

***** 

'It's for you.' The tall woman said, her face lined and her eyes narrowed at the man in the leather seat. 

'Thank you, Monica.' The aged man said with a seemingly pleasant smile. He took the phone from her slim hands and listened carefully to the ten second message. They had failed. He terminated the call and glanced at the woman still standing there. She needed no other incentive than his stare. She lit the Morley cigarette and placed it in the pipe above his chest. Even the tracheotomy did not curb his harmful addiction. 

'You tried to kill children.' The woman, Monica said, with all her strength not to spit at him. 

'Oh Monica, what do you take me for?' He smiled slightly as smoke puffed from the small pipe. 'I told them I did not want him harmed. Only those with him. If they were children, then they were in the wrong place.' He accepted the second puff of the Morley happily

The man's face was clasped half in plastic, that was very nearly lifelike. It made him all the more ghoulish in Monica's mind, she dwelled as he pulled the pictures from the plastic pocket on his lap. 

'He's a good-looking boy,' The man noted as he shifted through the back and white images before him. Will could be seen leaving school, in a movie complex, even in the school canteen. 'And smart, so I've heard. My my, where he will go.'

'You still surprise me, with how much you disgust me.' Monica said as she stubbed the remaining cigarette out in a nearby tray. The man slowly looked up at her. 

'What do you think, Monica?' He handed her an image of a boy sitting on the steps leading to a school. 'Should I have it framed?' She grimaced at the man as he smiled lightly again. 

He nodded once and she promptly lit another cigarette for him. Her gut clenched at the images before her, of the boy's who future was already written and the end so clear and near.


	4. Chapter 4

_The woman had red hair. Fiery, yet soft. Strong, yet sensitive. He couldn’t see her face, nor were his arms long enough to reach, though he tried. He tried so hard to reach her. The warm glow told him she was smiling. And quietly, if he strained his ears, he could hear her…_

_“Jeremiah was a bull frog…_  
_Was a good friend of mine…_  
_I never understood a single word he said…”_

__Will blinked the sleep from his eyes, slowly and realized nothing was in focus. His arm groped on the floor for his glasses, and found them placed on top of his jacket. By the time he pressed the black frame up his nose, the song was forgotten, and the red hair dove back into the deepest corner of his brain. As he shifted, he heard a crinkle, and found he’d slept with the adoption records tight against his chest all night, as if scared they would be snatched and he’d be lost all over again._ _

__‘Whatimeisit?’ A groggy voice came from beneath the covers they’d all tangled in during sleep. Dexter’s frizz of blond hair rose from the cover’s, a trail of drool hanging from his mouth._ _

__‘Dunno, hang on.’ He reached for his phone, and felt ice slick down into his stomach. Twenty missed calls from St. Oscar’s. They knew he was gone. He’d completely forgotten he’d spent the night in the Miller’s basement. Nearly forgotten about a mad gunman…_ _

__‘I’m so in the crapper.’ Will sighed and decided to switch his phone off, rubbing his eyes. Dexter gave a small sad smile before tugging on Isaac’s shoulder._ _

__‘Up, Adimako, up!’ Isaac grunted, but simply turned over. As Dexter tried to rouse their friend, Will exclaimed the records again, the paper crumpled but still dear to him. Washington. They said they’d go to Washington. It was crazy, so crazy. They could never do that, he couldn’t see himself running across the continent to find the parents who might turn him away. Or they might want him. The unknowing was killing him inside._ _

__‘Guys – I have to go back. They’re going to kill me.’ Isaac finally opened his eyes._ _

__‘What? Back to the home? Dude!’ Will blinked between the two startled faces._ _

__‘What?’_ _

__‘Someone tried to shoot us, or maybe…you…’ Dexter spoke softly. ‘You can’t go back there. You’ll be a sitting duck!’_ _

__‘What else can I do?’ He held the papers to his chest and breathed. ‘The home won’t let me get in contact until I’m eighteen, and even then…who knows. But until then there is nothing to be done.’_ _

__Isaac and Dexter shared horrified looks._ _

__‘Who are you and what have you done with Will van de Kamp?’ Isaac stated. ‘Just last night we said we’d get you to Washington, and wasting no time about it!’ He clambered to his feet and began chucking coats to Dexter._ _

__‘You meant that?’ Will said. ‘Guys, we can hardly run off? And say we could, how would we even get there? There’s a madman with a gun on the loose!’_ _

__‘Got a point there,’ Dexter said, biting his lip. ‘If we try any airport he could be there. Plus they’ll be sniffing around for you.’ He nodded towards Will. They glanced over at Isaac to see him grinning._ _

__‘What?’ Will asked. ‘What’s so funny?’_ _

__‘I know just the thing to get us there.’ He said and began to leave the Miller’s basement, up the creaky wooden stairs. Dexter and Will glanced at one another before grabbing their coats, and Will stuffing the papers back into his backpack, and following the two up the stairs._ _

__They snuck easily enough out of the house so Dexter’s parents did not see them. They were farmers, but also novelists. The Saturday morning was crisp and clear, and Dexter should have been helping out on the farm. But instead the three retrieved their bikes from the Miller’s shed and followed Isaac as he led them up the overgrown path towards the cross roads. As they came to the mouth of the road, they saw a car speed past._ _

__‘Cops.’ Isaac said, coming to a halt. ‘They’ll be looking for you. House burns down, they’ll think it was murder-kidnap or something.’_ _

__Will’s gut twisted at the thought. His phone remained turned off in the bottom of his bag. If they did go ahead…it would have to go. Turn it on they might find him. And no point carrying a useless phone._ _

__‘C’mon.’ Isaac said and they peddled towards town, but cautious of the main roads. Dexter yanked Will’s hood up as they biked down roads, gliding on light hills until the suburbia side of Hanker came into view._ _

__‘There’s our ticket to Washington, guys.’ Isaac came to a halt in the center of the road, and pointed to his driveway. Will pulled down his hood and peered through his glasses in the morning sun._ _

__‘You’re kidding me.’ Dexter said, a slight giddy tone in his voice._ _

__Isaac’s grandpa was in the drive with a bucket and sponge, cleaning the headlights of a well kept black 1967 Impala. They’d seen it every Saturday they spent at Isaac's, but it was as if they saw it for the first time._ _

__The real first time, Will had sworn he’d drive a car like that._ _

__‘When did we turn into the fucking Winchester’s?’ Will said, unable to hold back the laughter. Isaac grinned at them._ _

__‘Grandpa goes to the senior center on Saturdays. Straight after cleaning the car and placing her back in the garage. Keys are in his desk draw. If we’re taking you to your parent’s, we’re doing it in style.’_ _

__‘You can’t even drive!’ Will exclaimed, but admiring the gleam Isaac’s grandpa had managed to give the car._ _

__‘True…but Dexter can.’ The pair turned on their bikes to look at the boy, going red under the blond frizz._ _

__‘Can I hell! I only have a learners permit!’ He cried, though Will noticed he too was eyeing the car up._ _

__‘You said you’d help,’ Will tried, everything becoming comical to him._ _

__‘And you’re the only one of us who can tell the difference between the brake and accelerator.’ Dexter considered this, before Isaac signaled them to wheel their bikes towards the house as his grandpa disappeared in doors. The garage was wide open, and they neatly slotted their bikes in the back, as if this were any other Saturday. Isaac made sure to cover Will’s and Dexter’s with a plastic tarpaulin._ _

__‘Nice day like this, Grandpa might keep it out in the sunshine, let the neighbors feel envy.’ Isaac sniggered. And as they crouched behind the Impala, true enough, Grandpa Adimako left the house, a fresh Hawaii shirt on, and sandals and socks to complete his look, along side his fisherman’s cap._ _

__‘Your grandpa’s fashion gets me every time.’ Will found himself grinning far too wide. Once the elderly man was far enough down the block, the three used Isaac’s key and unlocked the front door._ _

__‘Mom and dad will have left for Casper first thing – only good thing about work commutes. They’ll have thought I was still in bed. And grandpa will have thought I’d left early. Bless, it too easy sometimes.’_ _

__‘Driven across the country in a stolen car before have you?’ Dexter grinned as they all charged upstairs to the old man’s room. Isaac rooted around in the desk draw, before fishing out the key._ _

__‘Grandpa won’t be back till four. Mom and dad six. I’ll leave them a note saying I’m at yours for the weekend,’ He nodded to Dexter. ‘So I’ll grab some stuff, you guys get a shower, or sort food out.’ At the mention of food, Dexter raced down the stairs. He knew exactly where the Adimako’s kept the Mountain Dew and Twizzlers that were no good for Isaac’s grandpa. Isaac left for his room and started to grab some clothes._ _

__Will stood at the top of the stairs. Dumbstruck even, before deciding to take Isaac’s offer up and head for the family bathroom, and turned the shower on. As he stood under the nozzle, only then did he realize doing this would mean change. The simple things like staying over at Isaac’s or Dexter’s for a weekend of video games and conspiracy theories would never happen again. Maybe they would. He hoped. He let the spray clean his face, and remove the sweat from last nights adventure. As he closed his eyes, the dark red of his eyes lids, highlighted by the bathroom light made him think._ _

__Red._ _

__What was red? He was supposed to remember something that was red. But what?_ _

__He switched the nozzle off and clambered out, and pulling clothes from home out of his backpack._ _

___‘__ Found the pizza rolls!’ _Dexter’s voice carried up stairs and Will grinned into a towel. It just didn’t seem real, like they were only pretending. Like the time they said they’d run away, and only spent the night in Dexter’s tree house. Will stepped into his jeans, but removed a clean black tee with a red flannel shirt on top. They smelt like smoke, like he’d had a life long addiction to cigarettes.__

____Or survived a house fire._ _ _ _

____Tears prickled his eyes, but he poked them away with the towel. Stuffing his old clothes back in his bag, Will made sure the documents were there and the photo he’d taken from home. His old life and new one stuffed in a ratty old backpack._ _ _ _

____‘Ready?’ Will asked Dexter as he went downstairs. The front door was wide open, the trunk popped to reveal brown bags of the most random food – Mountain Dew cans, Hot Pockets, Instant noodles, and a collection of Tootsie Rolls. Thankfully Isaac had stepped in and placed a large container of water in and several blankets and changes of clothes for himself and Dexter._ _ _ _

____‘Check it out,’ Isaac produced a selection of fold up maps from his jacket pocket. ‘Washington…there’s a few adoption agencies…’ Isaac peered at the map._ _ _ _

____‘It was a closed adoption, if that helps.’ They both peered at the map until Dexter piped up from the driver’s seat, a potato chip in his mouth. His smartphone in his hand._ _ _ _

____‘Got one! Private adoption agencies in Washington. Only two there. We can hit them both, see what they turn up.’ Isaac folded up the map and locked the door to his house. Biting his lip, he glanced at the car._ _ _ _

____‘Grandpa is going to kill me.’ He whispered._ _ _ _

____Will felt a surge of guilt. ‘You don’t have to do this. We can find another way. I don’t want you guys getting into trouble.’ Isaac shook himself and smiled._ _ _ _

____‘No, I promised I’d help you and I will. I’ll just be cleaning this bad boy until I go to college. Hell, not a bad thing. Pretty girls walk up and down this block all the time. Might get some interest if they see me with this beauty.’ He gestured to the car._ _ _ _

____‘Guys!’ Dexter cried as Isaac and Will slapped hands. ‘Guys – Will you need to see this.’ Dexter stumbled from the car and shoved his phone right under Will’s glasses._ _ _ _

____‘Turn it up.’ Isaac said as they all squinted down at the screen. ‘Will! It’s you!’_ _ _ _

____‘___ Police are now very concerned for the welfare and safety of fifteen year old William Van de Kamp.’ _ _ _The pretty blonde newsreader was saying from the news station, Will’s face on the screen, a smiling picture taken just last month at the school when they were forced to document their Examination club. Will was grinning and looking at a computer. ‘___ William was placed into the hands of social services for less than forty-eight hours after his family was killed in a tragic house fire. But now he has disappeared, making police all the more suspicious – was foul play involved in the Van de Kamp’s house fire? And if so, have these criminal taken William? If you see William, we urge you to call the number on screen…’ _

____‘Guys, in the car, now.’ Isaac said, swiveling his head up and down the block, should a neighbor be slightly too nosy. Dexter sat in the drivers seat, and Will was bundled into the back, his skin now covered in goosebumps, his heart racing._ _ _ _

____‘Drive, Dex.’ Isaac said, spreading a map out over his side of the dash. ‘We’ll have to keep off the interstate as much as we can – car will be reported stolen just after four.’_ _ _ _

____‘I can put some serious miles behind us by that times.’ The noon sun was rising, and the 1967 Impala hummed down the drive and along Isaac’s block, heading for the cross roads out of Hanker, and towards the main city of Casper, Wyoming. Will had never left the state before. And now he felt sick. But he lent back in his seat, and closed his eyes once Isaac rolled his window down. Dexter fiddled with the radio and the same news report about him came on, until the station changed abruptly._ _ _ _

____‘Hell yeah, Washington here we come!’_ _ _ _

____‘Fitting song.’ Will found himself smiling. Highway to Hell it was._ _ _ _

____**XOXOXOXOXOXO**_ _ _ _

_‘Police are now very concerned for the welfare and safety of fifteen year old William Van de Kamp…’_

_Poor boy, _ _ _ _ _Dana Scully thought to herself as the news report sang from her laptop screen. But instead she had turned away and was filling out the medical reports at her kitchen table. It had almost been six weeks since the bombing in Texas, and she was struggling to get back into the full swing of the X-Files. Mulder wasn’t. He was thriving. And it worried her. He was manic. And after his episode with the placebo mushrooms (she really had to hand it to Einstein) she felt no level Mulder would not go to reach a solid conclusion in his search.__ _ _ _ _

_'William was placed into the hands of social services for less than forty-eight hours after his family was killed in a tragic house fire…’_

__________Dana’s heart raced and her pen stopped mid-flow. She turned shifted in her seat and resisted the urge to look. It was her heart playing tricks, not her brain. She wanted it to be her William, her sweet William. But it wouldn’t be. Why give herself such false hopes. She wanted desperately to look up and see this missing boy’s face and see her hair and Mulder’s eyes, she wanted her William to come home._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But that was an impossibility that she was forced to be grateful for. The further from her he was, the safer he was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Dana Scully tucked a strand of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. She had to see Mulder tomorrow. She should focus on that. He hadn’t called in a while and it was starting to worry her. Although she missed hearing his voice, she understood the fact Mulder didn’t always call or pick up. But this length of time wasn’t like him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_'If you see William, we urge you to call the number on screen…’_

____________Scully was pretty much stabbing her paper with the pen, but anything to take her mind away, anything not to look up with hopes, only to be broken into pieces._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________But had she looked up, she would see not a child with red hair and her Mulder’s eyes. But a boy with dark hair and glasses, Grinning happy at something found online, so much like his father. Had Scully looked up, she would see her own gleaming eyes and, quite clearly, Mulder’s nose._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys - I just wanted to say a personal thank you to all fo you who left a kudos on my work. I really apprieciate it, and I hope you all enjoy the next installment I have for you.

They had stopped for gas a few times. Each time, either Isaac or Dexter going in, claiming their dad was filling the tank and that they were sent to pay (and to get more Tootsie Rolls, as whenever Dexter came back). Will never went in. All it took was for one person to have seen the news report and call the cops. He would hide behind the map or duck under seats if the gas stations were busy. 

They stayed off the highways as much as possible, traveling through smaller towns and open country where Dexter could push the accelerator till Will was sure he had lost his stomach several miles behind. Isaac's grandfather most definitely would have reported the car stolen. Unlikely they would look for it past Casper. Looking outside of Hanker was a stretch – kids stole cars for joyrides. A car as nice as a Chevy Impala? It was waiting to be stolen by someone. 

The open stretch of sky had turned black by the time they needed to refill the tank. Will's legs were achy from lack of use, and his eyes itchy with tiredness. It was just gone midnight when they found a small town on the far side of Indiana, with a 24-hour gas station. The place looked seedy and unlikely to report the FBI's most wanted if they walked through the door – never mind a missing person. Dexter cut the engine and Will opened the door. 

'Hey!' Isaac hissed. 'Get back in – someone will see you.' Dexter yawned in the drivers seat and rested his head on the wheel. 

'Dude, its gone twelve. Place is deserted, and you've crammed me behind the seats all day. I need to move.' Isaac sighed but nodded.

'I'll go pay, fill her up.' Dexter was now snoozing, and Isaac clambered out, removing the pump from the station. Will approached the door to the station, fishing around in his backpack. His fingers brushed the familiar feel of the folder and he paused for a moment. All day, stuck in the back of the car, tunes blaring, Isaac and Dexter enjoying the thrill, Will sometimes forgot the purpose of his quest. He was living between reality and dreamland, and he was mixing the two up – he kept thinking tonight he would head home, back to Hanker, to the farm. His father making supper for them, and his mother coaxing him to sit and converse with them, rather than hold up in his room. 

Gulping some fresh air – if you could call the scent of gas and burnt rubber fresh – Will's fingers moved deeper into the back and brushed the note bundles he had snatched from the strongbox. They were half of his father's savings – the rest likely in another strongbox by the barn which Will didn't know. He grasped a twenty and ten dollar bill and stepped inside. The small building was muggy, an air conditioning fan rattling noisily. The man behind the counter was overweight, and gazing at a too-bright television screen. But the glassy look told Will he was not fixated on the program, but in his own dreamland. 

Enjoying the feeling of working his legs, Will browsed the shelves, from dish soap to potato chips. Past the greasy window, Dexter had fully dozed off, and Isaac was staring up at the sky in awe. Will pulled two extra large bottles of water from a fridge and stepped up to the counter. The man took a few moments to retract from his glassy-eyed dream. 

'$32.75.' He grunted, and Will fished around again for a five bill. He handed the notes over, and as the man shifted to grab some change, Will noticed several pictures pinned up behind the man on the pin-eaten wall. Normally, in a remote place like this, Will expected the man to maybe have bikini models or chicks on motorcycles pinned up. But the photos were small, square, and held a grainy image of a strange shape in the sky. There were dozens. 

'$2.25.' The man grunted, handing over two bills and coins in change. Will nodded towards the images. 

'Where are they from?' The man glanced backwards. 

'Local, mostly. Get a lot of weird stuff in the sky 'round 'ere.' He pointed to the murkiest of the images. 'Took tha' one meself. Out the back when I was taking out trash. Caught it on my cell. Not the best.' He pointed to one further down. 'Ol' lady took that one. Claims it took 'er cat. And tha-' he pointed to the one on the far right. 'Bloke came in a few year back, asking bout 'em. Went out and found one. Sent me a copy. I got more if you want one.'

'Copy of the one on the end, if you have any.' The man heaved himself from his seat and trekked into the office. Will ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed heavily. His eyelids still felt heavy behind his glasses, but his brain was tingling; the images made him aware of his camera in his bag. And something was pulling inside his gut, like it had done many times before. 

The large man came waddling back, a shiny print in his hand. '$5.' Will rooted for coins in the back pocket of his jeans and added it to the change the man had given him. He took the photo and studied it intensely. 

'Guy who took it – seemed like the crazy type, y'know?' The man groaned as he sat back down. 'Heard he spent five days camped out watin' to see 'em.'

'Where did he camp?' Will asked, carefully tucking the photo into his bag. The man stretched over, clearly not used to this level of movement, and pointed past the window. He clearly didn't care there was no adult in their car. 

'Two an' a half mile that way, turn off and there's an old quarry. Empty for decades. Camped out on the ridge, and didn't move.' The man turned from the window and peered at Will. 'Hang on, y'know, you kinda look like -' But distinctively, a phone rang from the office. The man groaned, even heavier this time, and stumbled away from his TV screen. Will felt his heartbeat quicken. 

Kinda look like who? A kid you saw on TV? Or what?

Will collected his water bottles and headed from the station shop as quickly as he could. Isaac was leaning against the hood of the car. Dexter out for the count. 'We're gonna have to find a place to sleep. Can't drive much more, he won't last.' Isaac jammed a thumb at Dexter, who grunted in his sleep. 

'I know just the place.' Will said, striding to the back door behind Dexter. Isaac gave their sleeping friend a hearty shove, and he awoke. 

'I'maup!' He cried, before frantically blinking. He gratefully took the water bottle Will handed him and gulped feverishly. 'Thanks. Can I go back to sleep now?' He asked, his voice seeming to reverse backwards from puberty. 

'Soon, right now, two miles and a half south-east, there's an empty quarry. We can park, then set off at first light. Isaac nodded in approval, and Dexter sighed as he switched the engine back on. The Chevy pulled out of the gas station terminal and they drove along the abandoned desert-like road. The sky was a deep blue, Will noted, with streams of wind caught in the moonlight. A clear and perfect night. The tingling deep inside his head deepened the closer they got to the old quarry. He stuck his head out the window from the back seat and relished the stream of cold night air. 

'That it?' Isaac asked, pointing out his own window. They peered forward and saw the faint outline of a ridge, and a deep set in the ground. 

'Must be. Pull up by the ridge. Bet it's a nice view.' Will said. Dexter glanced back at him, but said nothing. If he said that some weirdo behind a gas station counter said UFO's were out here, they would get all excited. Will needed them to drift off before he headed down into the quarry. The gentle hum of the car began to turn into a purr, before drifting off itself. 

'Guess we should try and get some sleep.' Will stated. Dexter was way ahead – he had already returned to his position, slumped against the wheel. Isaac shifted until his back was pressed against the door. Stretching his feet out across Dexter, he closed his eyes. 

'We'll find your parents, Will. Promise you that.' He said, stifling a yawn. Once more, he shifted and was soon as quick to sleep as Dexter. 

Will remained wide eyed, despite the desperate need to close them. He sat still for a few minutes, waiting till Isaac snored, and Dexter's eyes stopped rolling behind closed lids. Then, clutching his backpack. He opened the car door. Carefully allowing it to close, he slung the bag over his shoulder and walked up the remainder of the slope and glanced across the quarry. True, it had been left vacant for years. But tire tracks and burnt out campfires suggested teenagers around he were easily bored and ventured out. Will glanced down the ridge and began placing his feet in gaps and on rock, making his way down. 

More than once, his hand would slip, or he would loose his footing. They were high up, and he was moving at a snails pace. The inky sky did not shift, but the wind increased slightly until his feet reached the base of the quarry, dust exploding from his footfalls. No cabins or machinery had been left, it was a stretch of nothingness, but Will kept moving. Every so often he would look back towards the car, just to reassure himself they were there, and that he was really here. If this were a dream, everything behind him would fade. 

He walked for maybe an hour. Maybe more. His watch told him two thirty when he finally stopped. The tingling in his head was beautiful, like connecting to power source you had been deprived of for so long. Greedily gulping water in a desert. Breathing in air after surfacing from water. Meeting someone you've known your whole life, but never seen. 

Will sat down in the dirt, the dust settling. He removed his camera from his bag, grateful to have it, and waited. It was the only source to relieve him of possible insanity. Then again, walking across an Indiana quarry in the middle of the night, alone, because of a _funny feeling_ , would more than qualify as insanity. The night remained clear, and he waited. 

His eyes would drift to the back of his head for random periods of time -seconds? Or hours? He had no strength to look at his wrist watch. The world breathed silently around him and he waited. As his eyes sunk backwards once more, he saw something flicker in the sky above, briefly. Once he rearranged his eyes, it was gone. But the tingle felt more real than ever. Like eyes from above were watching him just as keenly as he watched theirs. This time he did not use his camera. As the object peaked from the skin of the sky, just for a second, he only stared. 

It was gone within seconds. Had it really been there? Yes. Of course. As if internally satisfied, his body seemed to shut down. Low power. His eyes sunk backwards, the lids closed. He lay down in the dirt and slept, peacefully, as if cradled softly by the eyes watching him. He almost envisioned red hair with them. 

_Jeremiah was a bullfrog..._

_He's not safe._

_I can't do it._

_Can't do what? He cried out._

_He was a good friend of mine…_

_He needs to be safe._

_I never understood a single word he said…_

_The truth is out there, Scully…_

Will felt the electric current radiate through his body, and his blue eyes snapped open.

The sky was crisp, and deathly pale. Dawn had cracked overheard, and the skin of the sky bled with the slight tinge of gold on the edge, pastel blue everywhere above. 

The first thing Will noted was that he had fallen asleep outside, on the ground. 

Next came the memories of the past few days. 

Then came the hands that grabbed him and yanked him to his feet. Men in black suits did not make eye contact, but grabbed his stunned body through the quarry. Will tried to comprehend everything at once – where, what, who, how, there, that, this, them. He struggled to keep in time with the two that dragged him by his coat sleeves, and the third up in front that seemed to be whispering into a cell phone. Blinking rapidly, Will was pulled up along a man-made ramp on the side of the ridge, which he had not seen in he dark last night. 

The muscles ached as he followed the steep slope, and the two men tugged harder. He could not create any words that could travel past his lips. Instead, he was rendered mute and forced to follow. Reason seemed to set in his mind, and he formed the idea that the authorities had found him. Maybe they thought he had been kidnapped, or run away, and were taking him back to St. Oscar's in Hanker, Wyoming. Next time, they would use a plane. No matter any crazed gunmen.

Once nearing the top of the quarry-ridge, Will saw the doors of the Impala were wide open – Dexter and Isaac nowhere in eyesight. Will scanned the horizon before him and saw only three large black cars, windows tinted, and quite obviously, re-enforced. 

More men in suits stood around. They did not wear sunglasses, or look like Will Smith, much to the disappointment of the small echo of humor in William's mind. All the men were relatively young. Apart from the man who turned around once Will was able to wrench his arms free. A woman stood besides him, her tanned face vaguely lined, and her eyes downcast. The old man was smiling, and Will felt unnaturally unnerved. 

'He was nearly a kilometer away. No one else with him.' The man who had been charging up front addressed the old man. Will tried not to stare at the small pipe extending from a break in his chest. He could not shake the feeling of the woman's intense gaze on him. The elderly man stepped forward, and in the moment, Will contemplated jumping off the side of the ridge. These were definitely not taking him back to St. Oscars. 

'Its good to finally meet you, William.' The man smiled lightly. Oh that unnerving smile. The man did not extend a hand, nor did Will expect the man to. 'You certainly know how to travel.' He nodded tot he car, and Will's concern for his friends worsened. 'But you didn't stray too far from our eyesight.'

Will felt the stabbing in his neck and shouted out, forced to his knees in the dirt. 

'Welcome back, Agent Mulder, Agent Scully.' He quietly breathed, Will unable to hear. His eyesight swam and no matter how many times he blinked, he could not focus. He vaguely saw the woman step up besides the man, and a puff of smoke emit from his chest. 

'The plans are moving ahead. Put him in the car. We do not have as much time as I wished.' Will heard none of this. He was mildly aware someone was carrying him. The dusty road and the sky seemed to switch places, then mix, and he felt the world slowly delve into black. The tingling in his head was long gone, and withdrawal seemed to be imminent. He knew he was in trouble, that this was danger beyond running away, or stealing a car. This was life and death. Somehow, he could tell. But his heart ached at the thought that he was now further away from his real parents than ever before.


	6. Chapter 6

Will felt himself slip in and out of consciousness for a while. Whenever he managed to open his eyes, it was all in a haze. He could not focus for long, eventually drifting away again. Every time he did, he was confronted with Red. That red hair. Her face. She seemed more real than ever, and he reached for her with all his strength, but he couldn't get there. She was always just out of his reach. But he would call for her, and when he did, she was there in an instant. 

The next time Will awoke, he remembered. He remembered her face as if he'd seen it every day of his life. The curve of her jaw, the twinkle in her eyes, the smile just for him. His eyes opened, and the focus came. 

Moving slowly, he found himself in a bed. As he shifted to look around, he felt a sharp prick in his arm. An IV line had been inserted into his veins, and wooziness suddenly over came him. 

_No. Keep it together Van de Kamp._

Will tried to think as the previous events were muddled in his minds eye. Dexter. Isaac. That man. The scared looking woman with him. What had happened?

Will tugged on the IV line and found it slipped easy enough out of his vein, but as soon as he touched it the door opened. The woman came in, the same woman who'd been with the ghoul of a man who'd met him in the quarry. 

'Time to get up William.' She said, her face blank. She examined the removed IV line before pulling the bed sheets off him. He was still dressed in his dusty clothes after sleeping in the quarry. 'He wants to see you.' She said. As she moved to leave the room, her hand gripped the door frame and looked back, a sad gleam in her eye. 

'I'm sorry, for all of this.'

'Who are you? Why am I here? Where are my friends?' He asked, stepping out of bed. He staggered for a moment as he tried to re-gain his balance. 

'My name's Monica. I...I knew your parents. Your birth parents.' Will felt his heart stop for a second. The woman glanced at the floor like she'd said something that should never be spoken. 'Best not keep him waiting. A powerful man like him does not wait.' She left, and Will found himself charging after her. 

'Wait, you know my parents?' Will quizzed her as they walked through the building. He cared little for his surroundings when the information he sought was so close. It was on the edge of this woman's lips. If he had paid attention to where he was, he'd see a marvelously constructed house. It wasn't a home. It had a sense of being unloved and unoccupied. Stained wooden features curved every wall, with grand paintings. Will cared little for art, and the pieces around him were worth more than what his parents would have made on their farm for double their lifetimes. 

'I did once. I was there when you were born. But that is all I can say.' She led him down some stairs and came to a halt outside a partially open door. She braved a glance in before whispering in his ear. 'They miss you more everyday.' 

Will had never felt his heart so warm in all his life. Not when a pretty girl he liked had smiled at him. Not when he was with his best friends. Not even when he scored his first Home Run in Little League. Nothing compared to hearing those words, and Will felt like he was wearing a suit of armor as the woman, Monica, knocked and gestured for him to enter. 

'Welcome, William.' The man was standing before a large wooden desk. Beautifully carved, yet void of any office supplies. Did anyone actually use this house. The man placed a burning cigarette to the pipe produced from his chest and a billow of smoke followed it's exit. 'I was hoping you’d wake up soon.'

'Where am I?' He braved a question. The man was watching him keenly, and Will was wary of this. He was also wary of how, in the glow of the fire behind him, half his face looked prosthetic.

'There's no need to be alarmed. You're where you belong now.' Another puff. Will didn't understand a word the man was saying. 

'Where are my friends?' He asked, glancing about the room, should Dexter or Isaac be sat in a chair with a gun pointed to their heads. 

'They're safe, being well treat. And will continue to be so should you cooperate.' The man smiled lightly. Every nerve in Will's body gave a shudder. 

'Cooperate with what?' He asked. He slowly stepped further into the room. He was aware that Monica wasn't behind him. She'd shut the door after he'd entered and he was now alone with this man, and something inside him was saying he was in front of serious danger, even if it was a frail looking old man. 

'With your future, William. You were made for great things. Now the time has come for you to lead our way.'

'What are you going on about? I want to see my friends!' The man's light smile dropped slightly. Just slightly, enough to make it change all meaning, and Will suddenly felt cold, despite being in front of a roaring fire. 

'You may see them soon. There is someone else I want you to meet first,' Will felt the agitation grow inside of his body, he pondered the room, desperate to smash something at the cryptic voice behind the man.

'I don't understand! What am I doing here? What is going on?!' He near-shouted to the man. 

The man just paced the room in front of the fire, as if the shadow which he would die if he ventured too far from a source of light. 

'You are a special being in this world, William. You were born for great things. You are capable of great things. It is buried in your DNA. Waiting to be unlocked. It is why your parents gave you away.'

'You know them?' Will found himself asking. Again came that light smile that made him feel so cold. 

'Very well in fact. Now, your DNA has always been the subject of great discussion. Although someone's actions have led to it being dormant. But I've fixed that William, and now you are ready.' 

A television screen mounted on the wall flickered on automatically, and Will briefly wondered if the man had rehearsed this whole speech. The screen showed a live news broadcast of chaos in city streets. 

_'More and more are succumbing to this strange illness. There is no sign of any cure, and nobody appears to be able to resist it. Hospitals are overwhelmed. We urge you, do not leave your homes. The streets are not safe. Our Lady of-'_

The screen flicked back to black. Will was more lost than before. 

'We call it the Spartan Virus. A genetic failure among a large portion of the population. A selected few are immune. And you are the base template for all of this.'

'Me?' Will stuttered, unable to move his eyes from the screen, as if waiting for it to return. Illness? Mass contagion? But when he was outside he'd seen no one sick. How long had he been here? Long enough for mass illness to break out?

'Your DNA is an incredible thing. Just think, William, how are you able to see?'

'Able to see?' William questioned. Was it a trick question? He moved his hand to his eyes as if checking they were there. His fingers met flesh and suddenly, it occurred he'd not picked up his glasses upon waking. He could see clearly, nothing was a strange fuzz, but perfect. 

'Your DNA can protect itself from almost anything. Repair damaged and broken cells anywhere in your body. You are what everything is based off. We've waited a long time for you.'

'Why me?' William asked. 'I never asked for any of this – my DNA...it's normal! No doctor has ever said otherwise!'

'We've kept an eye on you. You weren't ready till now. Once major factors were disposed of, you were ready to come back.'

'Major factors…?' Will's stomach took a turn for the worst as sickness washed over him. 'My parents...my adoptive parents…. _you? You_ had them killed?' He grasped the arm of a nearby chair to steady himself. 

'They were only there to nurture you, a job which was needed. Your birth mother believed she had hidden you well, that you would be safe. But we never really lost sight of you for long. You evaded us for several months, but we found you in the end.' The man pulled a fresh unbroken pack of Morley cigarettes from his pocket and selected a lone death stick. He gave it a brief lick with a lighter, and placed it in the pipe. 

'I hope that kills you. You smoking son of a Bitch.' Will said in a low voice, as a bubble of hate began to boil. The man pulled the cigarette away and pondered the boy before him. 

'Really, William? My, you're just like him, I can see it.' Will's glare intensified in a questioning manner. 'I think it's time you two got re-acquainted. It's been so many years.' The man moved towards a door on the far side of the room, not the one William had entered through. His knuckles had turned white from gripping the leather seat. 

'Come along William. I'm sure he'd like to meet you as much as you wish to meet him.' 

He had no idea what the man was talking about. All he could feel was the anger, the loss, the pain the man had caused him. The Van de Kamp's were dead as a result. Because of this man. That was all he knew. He cared little of strange DNA, or that he could somehow see clearly without his glasses again. All he cared about were the burned bodies that this man had caused. 

Releasing his grip of the chair, William moved across the room slowly to where a door remained open. Would it be Isaac or Dexter beyond there? Would he kill his best friend's too?

_Cooperate._

His dad had always told him to compromise. Steven Van de Kamp had been a great dad when it came to compromising. Want to play on the computer, do half your homework, get half an hour. Finish it, get an hour. Want to go to the science fair? Clean your room for once in your life. Will's heart broke as he remembered the smiling faces of the two who had raised him. He craved the armor given to him by Monica. The fact that his parents missed him. But the shield felt frail. He'd been given away to be protected. Now the people who'd loved him, raised him, had died while protecting him. 

Sucking in a deep breath, pushing back the tears, William found the man across a hallway, standing in front of another door, his eyes gleaming somewhat. Now that they were out of the glow of fire light, and in the pure white artificial bulb light, William was convinced half of the man's face must be missing. It was hidden under a mask. 

The cigarette smoking man,(as Will realized he knew no other name for the man) pushed open the second door and lead the way in. 

'You still here?' A hazy voice came. Male, a clearly ill going by the sound. 'Those cancer sticks not bumped you off?'

'Now there, Fox. I've brought you a treat.'

The man – Fox, whoever that was – burst out into laughter. Delirious laughter, heavy with tiredness. William stepped slowly into the room, and he felt the old man grasp his shoulder in a grip that made him think of a vulture's claw. 

The man in the armchair before him was in a state. Scabbing wounds across his skin. Face flushed in a deep fever. His eyes seemed to roll beneath their lids until the cigarette man addressed him again. 'Fox, there is someone here to meet you.' The man's head rolled on his shoulders, his tee soaked with perspiration. 

'What are you talking about, old man?' Fox said, trying in vain to lift his head. Will felt himself gulp in nerve. Was this the virus the television spoke of? The man was in the worse condition Will had ever seen anyone in. A dozen illnesses seemed to be affecting him at once. Slowly, the man seemed to be able to focus his eyes more in their direction. 

'Fox, this is William. You remember William don't you?' Will didn't need to turn his head. He knew the old man had a grin on his face. He could hear it in his voice. The man before him, (Fox – what a strange name) did all he could to stare at him. His brown hair was ridden with sweat, and the stubble on his chin was scruffy. 

'William…' He rasped in a whisper. His eyes continued to roll, but always tried to roll back to him. 'No...no...how….not him, please…'

'Now you know what is at stake Fox.' The old man spoke, the vulture grip tightening. 'William, I'd like you to meet Fox Mulder. I believe he's waited to meet you for many years.' William peered at the man, but could not place his face. The man himself continued to stare back, and for a second, William thought it was sweat dripping from the corner of his eyes. But instead, they were tears. 

'Not him...please…' 

'Mulder!' A voice cried from beyond the door. A new face appeared, himself ill. A young man in a suit. He too was very feverish, his face hidden in a handkerchief. 'Mulder!' He burst into the room and spared one glance towards the two standing before the man. 

'Agent Mulder!' The man called again from behind the handkerchief. 'C'mon I'm getting you out of here.' 

The whole time, the man named Fox Mulder could not keep his eyes away from the boy stood before the cigarette smoking man. He pushed all his energy into absorbing everything he saw before him. 

'He's not going anywhere.' The old man said. 

'Yes. He is. We're leaving.' The young man said. His nose red, and his brow damp. But his eyes said serious. It was only then, when he glanced down, did William see the gun in the old man's hands. 'And no one is going to stop us.' The young man finished. 

'You think you'll get far? You have no idea how well we planned this.' The young man did not listen, instead, he pushed his strength into pulling Fox Mulder to his feet. 

'No...not without…' Mulder tried to speak, his throat evidently dry, the whole time not taking his eyes off William, who was more lost than ever before. 

The young man led Mulder out of the room, the Vulture grip leading William after them. 

'No… Miller…the boy…' Mulder said, swaying as the young man opened a car door. 

'The boy is not going anywhere, Fox. He'll stay right here. With me. I'll all that will be left for him and Scully.' The grin curled into the voice again. Mulder looked ready to punch the man, if he had the energy to move that is.

'You...son of a...William…' William watched as the young man who must be Miller lower Fox Mulder into the car. 

'Miller...William...don't... _my boy_ ….William...' Mulder's voice was but a whisper to a point where no one past Miller could hear him. And even Miller did not, as heavy coughs began to rack his body. William watched, half scared, half becoming curious at the mystery unfolding before him. The young man named Miller turned to study them both for a moment before closing Mulder's door and racing around to the driver's side. 

'No...William...Scully it's…..William!' Mulder tied to shout, but no one could hear him. As Miller encouraged the car engine, the cigarette smoking man whispered into William's ear. 

'Your father has always had a foolish streak in him,' As the car drove away, William felt everything around him die away as he watched the car be directed as fast as possible towards the road.


	7. Chapter 7

William's attention would not remain in focus, instead recalling that fleeting moment when the ill-looking man had heard his name, and glanced up with such horror. Fox Mulder was the man's name. William swirled it around inside his head as he watched the empty road before him. The Cigarette Smoking Man was talking away, quite pleasantly, but Will could not hear him. Nor could he picture anything else but the man's face. Will hardly had the attention or focus to protest when a large man forced him back inside the building, the spring air becoming humid. 

His attention slowly drifted back, and Will found himself sitting on the leather couch within the room, the fire burning. Fox Mulder nor the Cigarette Smoking Man were anywhere. The doors to the room were closed, and Will quietly suspected they were heavily locked. He wandered around the room, his mind lost for words. Fox Mulder. It was a strange name. 

'Fox Mulder.' William whispered it to himself, his voice cracking slightly. But the name rolled easily off the tongue, like name he'd always known, like Isaac Akimado, Dexter Miller, like William Van de Kamp. 

Van de Kamp. Was he William Mulder? He spoke the name, softly, as if embarrassed should anyone hear him. The name was strange, but then again, William always did have an unhealthy relationship with anything that was strange. 

He sat back down on the couch and sighed, his eyes watering as he stared into the fire. But they began to blink rapidly once shouts could be heard from beyond the doors of the room. There was a muffled bang, and William's ears pricked. A gun. Someone had a gun. The room was lavish, but held no hiding places from a mad gunman. Or had Fox Mulder returned, despite illness? Not likely, whoever the man was driving Fox Mulder away was, looked stubborn as to not reside here. Never mind come back. 

The door handle began to creak, as someone on the other side began turning it. Doing the only thing he could think of, William dove down behind the couch. The handle shook again, and a key found it's way into he lock. With baited breath, Will listened to the sound of the lock clicking, and the slow creak of the door. A peer round the couch and Will saw black hair. 

'William?' A small voice called. 

'Monica?' He asked, daringly. The black hair whipped around to reveal her aged face and a sigh of relief escaped her lips. 

'William. Come on, we're getting you out of here.' She dashed over and grasped his shoulder, holding him close as they scurried from the room. 

'Wait-what? Monica...I met, well, Fox Mulder. I-'

'Now's not the time.' Monica hissed as they hurried through the house. Shouts could be heard from upstairs as they entered a large, and equally lavish, dining hall. 

'Monica-'

'William, I can't explain everything.' In the short time since William last saw here, Monica seemed to have aged more. Her eyes were weary, as if ready for a long rest from danger. 'But I'm getting you to your parents, they're the only one's who can-'

There was another bang, louder, closer. William felt himself freeze inside. 

'Cutting it short.' Monica hissed as a door at the far end of the dining room opened. In walked a short man, with thick glasses and a leather coat. His hair was receding, stubble grey and scruffy, and his fingerless gloves were frayed beyond belief. 

'Langly thought he could disable the system without anyone noticing. Dumb ass.' The man's glasses flashed in the light as they moved a few inches up to look at William. 'God, he looks just like Mulder!'

'Now's not the time.' Monica said, her voice wavering as another shot could be heard from above. William thought about the Cigarette Smoking Man, and to what extent the man would go to keep him here. 'Did you get the other two?'

'Melvin Frohike.' The man outstretched a leather arm, grasping William's limp hand, shaking it vigorously. 'Good to see you again William. Old friend of your-'

'Now isn't the time!' Monica hissed again, as the door behind them burst open. Another man burst in, closing it behind him. He was taller than Frohike, in a brown suit. He would have fit in very well in a teacher's lounge. There was a handgun in his hand, and he seemed to be shaking. His brown hair was spotted with grey, his face pale and breathing erratic. 

'Other subjects are safe. We need to go now, I-' The man cut himself off when he stared at William. 'He-'

'Move!' Monica now yelled, and two pairs of hands grabbed William by the shirt and forced him out of the door at the far end of the room. Down another corridor, they reached an exit. The two men pushed William out, but Monica stayed in the doorway. 

'Get him there safe. I'll hold them off in here.' For the first time, Will noticed the gun sticking out of her pocket. 

'Monica-' Will stared but she shushed him as they listened to the sound of approaching footsteps. 

'Go now. Will tell your mother I'm sorry, okay? And be safe.' She gave him a warm smile before shutting the door and more gunshots could be heard. 

'C'mon Byers!' Will heard Frohike say. 'Get the kid in the van!' The second man – Byers – so many people – dragged Will away from the doorway towards where a non-descriptive van sat on the side of the road. Frohike banged on the side twice before getting into the drivers seat. 

'Wait- Monica, and my friends! They're-' Will was shoved into the front with Frohike, Byers sandwiching him between the two. The doors slammed and the van shot into action down the road. 

'Hey buddy!' Will shot around in his seat and found another man, a head full of long blond hair and thick glasses. Besides him, where the beaten but smiling faces of his friends. 

'What-'

'Yeah, we're just as confused as you.' Dexter gave off a nervous laugh, but was also torn between staring at the laptop on the other man's lap. Dexter gave him a wan smile, but was clutching the knee's of his jeans tightly as the van rocketed off. 

'What the hell was that, Langly?' Frohike said as his eyes watched the road, rather than the speed meter. Will felt his stomach drop once they reached over 70 mph. 'You said you'd get it done quietly. It was a goddamn battle ground in there!'

'They had secondary firewalls. I didn't see them, they're good at keeping it hidden.' The man spoke, with a somewhat grainy voice, his eyes blank as he didn't take them away from the laptop screen. 

'Yeah well they're good at shooting us too.' Byers said, breathing heavily through his nose. Will glanced between the men and his friends, unable to understand anything that was going on around him. It was like he was in a dream, no, worse than that. A live-time hallucination that was dangerously real. 

'What about Monica?' He managed to pipe up. Langly finally looked up, as if realising Will was there for the first time. Byers glanced side-ways, and Frohike didn't take his eyes off the road. That was a good enough answer. Will held back a sniffle and copied Frohike, just staring out ahead at the darkening road before them. 

'Where are you taking us?' Dexter spoke softly, to break the silence. 

'To William's parents.' Byers replied. Will was aware his friends were staring at the back of his head, but he didn't turn around. He sat in silence as the van rocked on the rocky road, and pictured the face of Fox Mulder in the car, almost reaching out to him. 

'At least we didn't run into the smoking son of a bitch.' Frohike replied lowly, Byers lightly nodding. But Will didn't hear them. 

'Who are you guys?' Isaac asked. 

'The Lone Gunmen are at your service, boys.' Said Langly, as they drove 

**OXOXOXOXO**

Monica Reyes, during her career as an FBI member had faced demons in human skin. She had seen monsters and killers, all once fascinating to her beyond measure. But there was no monster like the man who smoked Morley cigarettes. 

'Dear Monica.' He said solemnly. 'I thought you were better than this.' He said, his ancient skin almost glowing with the cigarette in his hand. 

'Better than you, you monster.' She nearly spat. She tried to compose herself in front of him, ut undignified hate found it's way to the surface. 'That boy is the only chance to stop you. Him and Mulder and Scully.'

'A happy family reunion, I'm sure. So I should be a part of it. Certainly not you.' 

'I rectified my mistake, staying here with you, letting you destroy everything to save myself.' Monica felt her bottom lip tremble. 

'Yet you made your biggest mistake yet, letting the boy go.' 

'It wasn't a mistake, it was attempt at salvation.' She said, straightening up.

'Was it now?' 

The man gave her no time to respond. The gunfire echoed, ringing within the room, and Monica Reyes fell to the polished floor. It only took a few seconds for her body to fail her, and for her eyes to half-close, their light dying as she got the rest she so desperately craved. 

'Get a car ready. We're going to Washington D.C. I need to be there to see the final stages myself.' The man besides him nodded and left the room. The man that was known by many names, from Spender to Cancer man, raised the lit cigarette tot he pipe and breathed deeply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys - sorry for the wait on this one! But I certainly hope it is worth it :) thanks for all the Kudos on this work, it means a lot to me


	8. Chapter 8

'Any luck back there, Langly?' Byers called as the van merged into the outskirts of the city. Will's eyes opened, blinking heavily to rid sleep from his vision. He had almost believed himself to be dreaming. Almost. 

'I'm trying. There's no response on the number Agent Reyes gave us.' Will glanced in the back as Frohike beeped the horn loudly at the blockade of traffic. All around, people were running, chaos in full force as windows were violently smashed, and voices screamed. 

'We're later than I thought. Stage two is under way already.' Byers exclaimed, watching a group of people coughing violently. He began to roll up the window. 

'This is stage two?' Isaac piped up. 'What was stage one?' 

'Inoculation that will eventually shut down our immune systems. Genetic pre-planning, much.' Frohike said, pipping the horn again. Isaac suddenly looked pale, and Dexter's nose was red with illness already. Will himself felt fine, and felt conscious of the words spoken by the Cigarette Smoking Man, his DNA was 'special'. He would survive the Spartan Virus – it would only make him stronger. Whereas the others were not immune – he heard Langly choke back several heavy coughs. 

'Still no answer.' The blond croaked. 

'Try Our Lady's directly – ask for Scully immediately.'

'You really think someone will be taking calls during this.' Dexter said. Will privately agreed – whoever this Scully was, they would have bigger issues than to answer their phone. 

'Darn traffic. Suck my-' The horn blared again as the road came to a standstill. 'We're stuck here. Have to go on foot at this rate. ' 

'Out there?' Frohike said, glancing cautiously outside. 'It's airborne. We won't last long.'

'We need to get him to Mulder and Scully – Reyes said Our Lady's, and that's where we will go.' Byers cut in. Will's stomach flipped at hearing the name 'Mulder'. He pictured the sick man he'd seen and felt a wave of fear – a virus as deadly as this, with no immune system, surely would mean fatalities. What if Mulder-

'Kid? Come on, we're heading on foot.' Frohike and Byers had departed, Langly having helped Isaac and Dexter out, the three looking pale and tired. Were Frohike's eyes drooping? Was he imagining the extent of Byers' sneezing? Byers grasped his sleeve they made their way along the sidewalk, a tight knit group of strange individuals, Langly with his long hair and laptop tucked under his arm, and Frohike's military apparel and startled look. But with disease rapidly growing, no one paid them any heed. 

'Keep moving east, off forty-fifth.' Langly stated as they crossed a rod, cars becoming abandoned as anarchy seemed to spread. There was a clatter as a store window was broken. 

'It's the end of the world.' Dexter muttered. He would use that phrase five times a week – when he failed his geometry test, when there was no more Mountain Dew, or when they got extra homework. Now the term seemed appropriate. 

'Hey, Will! This way!' Frohike called as Will seemed to become detached from the group. Before them stood the entrance to the interstate towards the centre of Washington D.C. 

'We need to go that way.' Will said, a rush of calm seemed to be emitted into the air. He became quite tranquil, the possibility of the virus having an affect on him crossed his mind. But the blinking light in the distant sky told him the Spartan was not responsible for the calmness. 

'Stop being, well Spooky, Will.' Isaac said. Langly coughed again, none of them thinking it was for any other reason than illness. 

'No. I need to go this way.' 

'Is this another of your- hey!'

Will took off in a sprint before he knew otherwise. He ignored the calls of his name, instead making his way through the streets and interstate roads of Washington like he'd lived there his whole life. The few cars that were occupied blared horns at the mad boys desperately running towards the light in the sky. The shape was indistinguishable, but he felt the same connection he'd always felt – but this time it was strong. It was live, and active. 

'WILL!' He ignored his friends, he ignored the Lone Gunmen and their calls. They ere becoming specks in the distance as he got closer to the light. His speed was increasing as if he'd spent years running track, instead of holding up on the computer. He felt his blood charge like electricity as his feet pounded on the concrete ground. His breathing had no labour, his lungs not burning with the stress of running. 

'What is it?' He heard people cry as the road began to cross the river, suspended above the water. Cars were still as drivers and passengers all climbed out to stare high above. The triangular shape was of comfort to Will, a shape he knew too well. He could no longer hear his name being called, and he ran all the more towards where the light was beaming down, like a target for him to reach. Before the timer rang. 

_'I'm coming. I'm coming.'_ Will chanted inside his head. To who, though? Fox Mulder? Himself? The people in the craft that called to him inside his head? 

Did it matter?

The light was streaming down towards a car in the middle of the road, like other's around him. If Will took his eyes off the ship above he would see he would recognise the car. He would recognise the very-ill appearing man sitting in the car. He would feel a strong link tot he woman who was gazing at the beam also, her strawberry blonde hair was no longer red, but if William looked, he would know. 

If only he looked. 

Instead, William did not take his eyes off the beam, which seemed to shift closer to him. He took a step forward, and climbed onto the edge of the highway bridge. The feeling was different. Danger. That's what it told him. These people were not safe, peace was not to come of the ship hanging above their heads. He looked up directly, as if shouting out the them, to the invaders. The beings not of his world who sought to take it. He felt his subconscious voice scream at the ship, as if they could hear him. 

If only he looked behind him. 

**XOXOXOXOX**

'He save your life...old Smoky.' Scully stared avidly at Mulder's condition. Her heart beat uncontrollably within it's cage, but she did not let her anguish show. 'I suppose I should thank him...Scully...'

Mulder's breathing was erratic. His eyes hazy. His words seemed close to failing him. 

'Scully...he was there…' 

'Mulder I need you to sit quietly. You're in worse condition.' She moved to give him space, to confess her fears to the ill looking Agent Miller, but Mulder's strength served him the ability to grasp her hand. 

'Scully...he has him...Cancer man has...has William…' His words were a whisper, but the one word that meant the most to Scully was audible. There was a flash and heavy hum, as a craft began to hover above the highway bridge. Scully felt her insides freeze over in fear, and her need to protect surged in her body. 

Her words stuttered as she returned instantly to Mulder's side, grasping his had as the strength he had was failing, his need for Stem cells becoming practical. 

'What do you mean he has William? Mulder, answer me!' All around her people needed what little assistance she could provide, but the mention of her son, and Dana Scully could not focus on anything. The beam of light streaming from the craft high above could not hold her attention as well as her son. She gave the terrifying shape a momentary glance, her eyes glazing over, before returning to Mulder's side. 

'Agent Scully?' Agent Miller tapped her shoulder, holding back a heavy cough. Sully waved him off. 

'Mulder – where is William?' Her hand reached out and touched his inflamed cheek. 'Where's our son?'

'Agent Scully!' Miller persisted. Her head whipped around, possibly to emit anything to leave the two alone, her son's safety causing havoc with her parental instinct. It had never been dormant, or idle. It had always been ignited. But now the flame was blazing. 

'Look-' Miller pointed, his face wretched with sickness. Still cupping Mulder's cheek. 'That's-that's him. He was at the house, with the man and Agent Mulder.' Scully's eyes trailed to where the beam had left her – to the body standing high on the edge of the bridge. She peered through the cars, rising to her full height to see the dark hair illuminated in the artificial light. 

'William?'

Her voice cracked, the words never fully passing her lips. But Mulder's head stirred in the car, the rest of his body unable to move to see. 

'William!' Scully pushed past people who were still transfixed by the craft above, Few were pointing to the teenage boy on the edge of the bridge. He did not turn around at the mention of the name. Scully was hit with the thought it was not her son – Miller was mistaken, Mulder was confused, but as she came closer, and angled herself to see the boy's face, she could see Mulder's nose, her eyes, the same jawline her brother Bill had all featured in one face. Mulder's ears were peaking out from brown hair, with a signature cow-lick that Scully would have found hysterical had this been any other form of circumstances. 

'William?' She whispered, slowly reaching out, as if he were a museum piece she was never supposed to touch. Her eyes followed his to the ship above, the humming vibrating through every atom of their bodies. Her hand reached out, inches from his own. She had dreamt of touching him, of holding him for years. Her hand grazed the skin of his, and she retracted her hand almost instantly, as a shock ran through her body, like touching a bare wire. 

William's eyes had begun to roll into the back of his head, still looking towards what could only be an alien ship. Scully mentally scolded herself and this time fully clasped the boy's hand. 

'William?' The tears she had frequently promised to hold back had made an appearance. 'My William?' 

_'Mom…'_ It was all Scully heard him say, words were being silently mumbled towards the ship. But her heart flooded as she heard that word, that single word. His hand gave hers a strong squeeze back before going limp. Scully knew he was going to fall. His knees gave way, still stood on the ledge. 

'Help me!' She called, instinctively in the direction of Mulder. But Miller ran over, his face streaming, and helped her pull the limp teenager away from the ledge. 'William.' She whispered as Miller lowered him to the floor. The pale blue light they were bathed in suddenly died away, and the ship high above seemed to shoot away, as if frightened by an unknown force. The lights of the ship blinked further upwards until invisible to the human eye. But Scully didn't even notice, she held the form of her son in her arms on the cold ground of the highway, cradling him as if he were a small infant. 

She moved aside strands of hair as she studied his face, his eyes closed and skin cold to the touch. It was only the reassurance of the beat inside his chest that kept Scully somewhat composed. 

'William.' She said, tears dropping to his face. 'My sweet William.' Among the sick and infected, the mother held her son, vowing never to let go, her lifeline to the world.


	9. Chapter 9

It took a long time for Will's mind to fully awaken. When he did, he felt as if he'd gone ten rounds with the school's captain of the wrestling team. He was groggy, arms stiff, and a strange sense of emptiness ached inside him. As if someone had forcibly removed an organ he didn't know he had, but suddenly craved. 

His eyes adjusted to the dark, and as he moved, he felt a collection of blankets fall from his body. For the smallest of seconds, he could almost see the outline of his model _Millennium Falcon_ , strung up above the bed, the outline of his clothes on the floor, and the general comforts of home. But a blink and his eyes saw reality. The room resembled that of a hospital, but with the lack of soft lighting or bleeping machines. The room was quiet, asides from laboured breathing beyond a curtain on his left. 

Rubbing his eyes, he moved around on the mattress, and found the uncomfortable sensation of a needle in his arm. Someone had attached a basic IV drip to his arm, and not for the first time on this journey. For all Will knew, someone could be pumping in a slow-acting poison into his system. He gentle rolled his eyes. He was beginning to sound like Dexter inside his head. The realisation of his friends awoke a fear in his stomach. He could not remember anything of how he got here. Straining his brain only allowed him to remember leaving the van the Gunmen had been travelling in, and after that...the emptiness. 

Will removed the IV line, grimacing slightly as the needle retracted. Throwing back the covers, he carefully placed his feet on the polished floor. A hospital is never silent, yet apart from the breathing of another beyond the parting curtain, Will could hear nothing. He didn't dare peak behind the curtain, wary of anyone who could be around him. The other beds in the ward were empty, their sheets stripped, the mattress a rubber slab. A window was blocked out by heavy curtains, smelling of disinfectant, but the watery light of daybreak was slowly invading the floor space. Moving as quietly as his jelly-like legs would allow, Will crept out of the war, facing a long corridor, with only one source of light seeping through a partially closed door. Each step forward allowed him to hear snippets of conversation. 

'… and the vaccine now needs to be globally distributed. I've managed to contact some old colleagues who have moved around, but without my DNA's genome, replication is-'

The woman's sentence was cut off with a hacking cough. 

Will took several steps forward, careful to stay away from the light, but conscious of his bare feet sticking to the floor. 

'Thank you, Einstein,' A male voice spoke up, gruff, clearly holding back another cough. 'And the stem cell extraction? It's worked?' There was a low puff of air, as someone exhaled. 

'Sir, I've never seen anything like this.' A third voice spoke, another woman. 'The subject made a remarkable recovery. Stem cell extraction is normally lengthy, but I wouldn't be surprised if the subject would be up and about in several hours. The genetic make-up the boy presents, its just-'

'He has a name, Agent Einstein. It would not harm anyone to say it.' The first woman's voice said. A definite bite in the voice, but low, as if protective. 

'Sorry, Agent Scully. Well, A.D. Skinner, Mulder will make a full recovery, and with the subject's-I mean, William's, stem cells, the recovery time has halved for Mulder had anyone else given him the cells.'

Will felt his ears prick at his name. Stem cells? They had taken stem cells from his body? He felt sluggish as it was, but surely something like that wouldn't even allow him to have woken up yet, never mind walk around. He found himself drawing closer to the door. 

'When will Mulder be conscious, Agent Scully?' _Scully?_ William pondered the name. 'If you want to move both him and William to a secure location, we need to be up in no more than twenty-four hours.'

'We will be ready.' Came the protective voice again. William couldn't help but want to see this woman's face. Mulder. They'd mentioned Mulder. They had given Mulder his stem cells. Will felt a slight tingle in his toes and chest, as if that enough made the belief about Mulder all the more true. The Smoking Man hadn't been lying – they must have used his cells to treat Mulder due to their genetic link. Will took another step forward, but backed away when the floor creaked. Thankfully, nobody stirred beyond the door. A shadow flickered across, and the sound of running water came from a facet. 

'Thank you, Scully. I know you are keen to move Mulder and William, but-'

'I'm not putting either of their lives in any more risk, Assistant Director. William is in more danger than he has ever been in his life, and I can't afford the risk of staying in Washington.' 

The man – Skinner? - took a deep breath, followed by the gulp of water. 

'Agent Scully, we need you in the process of the vaccination, people are still sick, not just in Washington.'

'I have given you a wide enough DNA sample, more than enough to amplify and replicate the alien code. It will be in the right hands soon enough. But I want William out of this place. He's already been taken once. Who is to say they are not watching this building as we speak?'

Will couldn't listen anymore. Although he craved to hear every word spoken about him, about Mulder, and learn about this Scully, he couldn't risk being seen. They did not sound like the enemy; they were keen over his safety. He slowly padded back down the corridor, wary of the sound his feet made as they stuck to the ground with every step back. Once back in the adjacent ward, he focused on the sounds of the laboured breathing. Slowly, he crept. Sunlight dusting below the drapes, and as he rounded the pulled separation curtain, he saw Mulder's face. 

It was less beaten, medical attention had washed away the sweat, and his fever had reduced. His skin around his eyes were baggy with fatigue, yet he slept deeply. His breathing was laboured, and he was attached to an IV line just as Will had been. He carefully studied the sleeping man's face. Will found his nose on Mulder's face, as well as his ears, and the infuriating cowlick in his hair that his mother had always said was an annoyance. He seemed younger in his sleep. Will thought of his dad: Steven Van de Kamp. The man hunted for fun, showed Will how to fix a car, ride a tractor, and tried his up most to get his son involved in sports. Apart from a fleeting fancy in basketball in middle school, Will had flunked gym more times than he could count. 

He stared at the face of Fox Mulder and thought about how different he would have been to Steven Van de Kamp. Mulder seemed younger, even if only by a few years. Was he a city man? Or a country man like the Van de Kamp's? Will tried to imagine living in a city like Washington, picturing the face of Fox Mulder as the man playing basketball in a drive-way with him. Something told Will that Fox Mulder would not tell him to get off the computer, as he too would be mesmerised by what he could find online. Will snapped out of the stupor at the sound of a door creaking down the corridor.

Jumping back into bed, he lay the blankets around himself loosely, but cursed silently, as the footsteps entered the war, as he ad forgotten to re-attach the IV line. The footsteps approached behind, and Will tried to regulate his breathing, going slow and steady, not squeezing his eyes too tight. Whoever had stepped into the room was pulling his blankets up, almost tucking him into the bed. There was a small sigh, but with a hint of humour, as the IV line rattled. 

'Just like him.' She whispered. 'Can't lie still in your sleep.' Will recognised the voice as that of the first woman he had heard speak. Was this the Scully woman the Gunman had talked about? Who even was she? Will tried his best not to open his eyes and begin to blurt out questions. Instead, he listened as the woman moved around and sat on his left, between his bed and Mulder's. He remained still. A hand was resting on his brow, slowly tracing its edge

Will stayed silent the whole time the woman was there. He heard her gently hum to herself, add the sunlight began to gleam beyond the curtains. Eventually he dosed off to Scully humming an old song she'd sing to herself every so often, when the thought of William could not be shifted from her mind.


	10. Chapter 10

Once the woman had finished humming her song, William heard her sigh and begin to move around the room, clearly restless. He heard her move beyond the curtain where Mulder lay, and a few minutes later he heard her heels click down the hall, fading out. He opened his eyes. 

Early morning sunlight was invading the gaps of the curtain fabric, and Mulder's heavy breathing was still present. Will climbed out of the bed and examined the ward again, the sun light giving some advantage. It was certainly a hospital. And it looked as if it had been evacuated suddenly, with only them remaining inside. Will moved around the room slowly, towards the curtains and moved them apart lightly. The sky above was grey, and the streets below were empty. Cars had been left like trash, and silence persisted. Dexter had been right, it was the end of the world. 

Will pressed a hand to the window pane, only just realising how warm he was. As the coolness calmed his skin, he didn't hear Mulder shift in his bed, or his breathing become slightly heavier as he awoke. 

There was a heavy cough, and Will jumped on the spot as his name was spoken softly. 'William?' He turned and saw Mulder pulling himself up in the hospital bed. His face was washed out, his eyes sunken, a similar feature Will himself gained when he was recovering from illness.

Mulder's eyes never moved from him, but they peered, as if unsure whether or not they were playing tricks. Will let the curtains slide back into place, and Mulder coughed again. There was a clatter of heels in the hall, and a young, small woman appeared in the doorway, a stethoscope slung round her neck as casually as a scarf. 

'Scully?' Mulder coughed again, this timed heavily. Will glanced between Mulder and the woman as she approached. He only just became conscious of the hospital gown he was wearing and moved foot to foot. 

'I'm afraid not, Agent Mulder.' The woman came to Mulder's bedside and examined the IV line which was attached to the crease of his elbow. 

'Einstein, get Scully.' Mulder coughed. Will noticed the jug of water left besides his own bed and moved over to collect a glass. He poured a healthy amount and reached out to pass it to Mulder. He wasn't sure why he didn't step closer to the bed. The woman whom Mulder had called 'Einstein' took the glass and passed it to Mulder, urging him to drink, but Mulder re-focused on William, not making eye contact with Einstein as he spoke again. 

'Get Scully.' Einstein seemed to understand that Mulder's request seemed important, so she placed the glass of water besides the bed and moved out of the room. Will watched her go, aware of Mulder's strong gaze fixated on him. Slowly, he turned to look at the man. He certainly looked healthier than he had done in the room with the Smoking Man. 

'You're different to how I imagined.' Mulder croaked, and Will felt his insides freeze. He seemed rooted to the spot between his and Mulder's beds. Again, he shifted foot to foot, unsure of what to say or do. In the end, he opted for: 'You're not how I imagined either.' 

That gained a smile from Mulder, and another heavy cough. 

Soon the sound of heels returned beyond the ward, and another woman appeared by the opened doors. Like the other woman, she was small. Her strawberry blonde hair was slightly tousled, as if she'd been sleeping in an unusual position. She was older, but her eyes seemed bright as she watched him, with as much keen interest as Mulder did. This was the Scully the gunmen had spoken about, and the Scully that William was sure Mulder had been breathing the name in his sleep. 

She stepped into the room, and Will was aware of Mulder watching from behind him, at the scene unfolding. Scully stepped closer to William, and seemed to be examining his face. He towered over her, even in her heels, despite him being one of the shortest boys in his class. Scully's eyes widened at every detail they saw on his face. Will found his throat to be stuck, as if swollen shut. 

As if unsure what to say herself, Scully spoke the only words she could string together. 

'You shouldn't be out of bed...you need your rest.' Her hand reached out, as if to guide him by the arm, but instead of guiding him, her hand stayed there. She gently held his arm and stepped closer, re-examine his face as if her life depended on it. William could almost hear the cough that Mulder was holding back as he watched on. 

William felt his throat unstick and was ready to ask the millions of questions that were eating away, but before he could say a word, Scully closed the gap and wrapped her arms around him, as if he were some small child in her care, and not someone towering over her. Her hand rested on the back of his head, and her face was buried in his shoulder. He felt her body shake in silent sobs, and felt the need to wrap his own arms around this woman. As he did, he felt her press herself tighter to him. 

'William. My William. My sweet William.' She whispered softly into his shoulder. William suddenly felt the numbness again. As the woman continued to whisper to herself, he found himself thinking of red. Red hair. A soft, singing voice that no infant should have ever been able to remember. His arms around the woman tightened slightly, and his breathing felt laboured as the woman leant back to cup his face. Tears were fresh on her cheeks, and her eyes even brighter than before. 

'Look at you.' She whispered, her thumb tracing his face. 'You've grown so much.'

'You're my mother?' He blurted out. He needed to hear it, needed to know if it was true enough. Her damp face crinkled into a smile and she nodded. He in turn examined her face, the smooth skin and the shiny blue eyes he saw in the mirror each time. She smiled at him, before sending a smile over to Mulder. The man in the bed had the truest smile Will had ever seen, and he felt the hundreds of questions form in his head. He had succeeded. What he, Dexter and Isaac had set out to D.C. to do was done. The notion that he was in the very same room as his birth parents shook him to the core. 

Scully cupped his face again, and as she played with his dark hair, he picked the first question, and was ready to ask it when they were interrupted. 

The squeak of boots halted as they entered the room, and Will saw the pale face of Frohike look startled. 

'Did I just interrupt a family moment here?' He asked, his eyes glancing around uncertainly. Scully rested her head on Will's chest, and he felt he breath deep to indicate she was laughing slightly. Mulder was rolling his eyes from the bed and Frohike began to back out of the room. 

'I was just sent to let you know Skinner's back. He needs to talk to you asap.' Frohike moved back out of the room, and Will could hear the squelch of his boots as h moved away. There was a chuckle from Mulder, followed by a heavy cough. Scully moved her head away from William's chest as she turned to to the ill man in the bed, but Will noticed as her hand quickly grasped his. 

'How are you feeling Mulder?' Her free hand rested itself on his brow, as again, Mulder coughed. 

'Like I've just drunk myself stupid and been chucked out of a bar.' He said with a small chuckle. Will saw Scully's face break into a smile, a bright one that suited her. 

'There's the Mulder we all know.' She said, and took the stethoscope left behind my Einstein. She seemed reluctant to let go of William's hand, as if he would disappear on the spot if she did. He sat down on his own bed and stayed facing the pair. As Scully listed to Mulder's chest as he coughed, William watched the pair together trying to knit together the idea of them both being his parents. It just didn't seem at all real. 

'You're recovering well enough. That cough will linger. But you'll be fit enough.' Scully said finally, smiling down at Mulder, who grinned lightly up at her. William began to wonder how they met, and what they were like together. They seemed to be each other's missing piece, he though, even though he had seen them in each other's presence for less than ten minutes. Once satisfied with Mulder, and forcing him to lie back onto the pillows she fluffed up for him, Scully spun round to face William. 

Despite her small legs, one step and she was in front of him, her hand on his brow, just as with Mulder. 'How do you feel? You're not clammy.' She began taking his pulse and fussing. 

Will remembered when he was nine, he's came down with the chicken pox. He was the last in his class to get it, and for days on end it felt, his mother...his adoptive mother...had him tucked up on the couch, the television allowed on for as long as he wanted, with her running in every ten minutes with a damp cloth, a fresh glass of water, some soup. She had fussed over him so much his father had laughed and said she was never going to let him leave home. As Scully began to fret over his blood pressure, he lowered his head slightly, in case anything should spill from his eyes. 

'I feel fine.' Will said, trying not to let his voice croak. Scully grabbed a clean glass from the side and poured him some water. 

'We need to keep your fluids up. We'll be moving soon.' She said, handing him the glass, and watched as he drained it, sat on the edge of his bed. 

'Moving…?' Will felt the water awaken his sense. 'What is going on...what happened last night?'

Scully looked puzzled and placed a hand on his head again. 'You've been here nearly three days, unconscious all the time. What can you remember?' She asked. 

Will thought back, to the gunmen, to the bridge. He believed for a second there had been a light, similar to that at the end of a tunnel. Then the emptiness. He felt as if an organ he'd never needed nor known was there had been moved way. The feeling matched the tingle he got when he fought about the light. He glanced up to find both Mulder and Scully watching him. 

'Nothing much...Frohike and the others. And my friends...where are they?' Scully pressed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

'They're fine, I promise. We kept you separate as you needed to recover.' She watched his face carefully. 'You were talking when we brought you here. On the bridge, you lost consciousness, but when you woke up you kept whispering to yourself. We couldn't work out what language you were speaking-'

'I don't know any other language. I flunked French and Spanish.' He blurted out. A spark of something grew in Scully's eyes and she glanced over to Mulder. When Will looked he found the man wasn't in his bed, but standing right next to him. His hand was on his shoulder. 

'Get back into bed Mulder.' Scully said softly. The man gave her a small smile, but stayed standing there, a small grip on his shoulder. 

'What was I recovering from? Am I sick too?' He asked, glancing up at Mulder, remembering the state the virus had made him. 

'No, you're not sick. Far from it.' Mulder said, his hand now resting on his head. 

'You had an operation.' Scully said. 'Stem cell extraction. It was the only cure for your-for Mulder. The virus had become nearly incurable in his system.' 

Will noticed what she nearly said. Mulder's hand had tensed when she nearly slipped. Something inside Will wished she had completed the words. 

He listened to the words, but before he could quiz further, there was another interruption. The woman from before, Einstein, was in the doorway, with a broad man with a balding head and glasses. 

'Agent Scully.' The man said, the voice recognisable from hours earlier when Will had wandered about the ward. 'Agent Mulder. We need to talk now.' The man stepped into the room as he addressed them, and his eyes found Will. 'You must be William.' He glanced hesitantly between Mulder and Scully. 'My name's Skinner.' He extended his hand, which Will shook. The man had a firm grip, and nodded to Will. 

'Agent Scully, if you will. We need to talk.' Skinner turned and moved towards the exit, where Einstein stood, watching them. Will thought about the term 'Agent', and wondered what both Mulder and Scully did. At first, he thought Scully was a doctor. Scully rested her hand on Will's leg and smiled. 

'I'll be back soon.' William nodded, unsure if the woman wanted him to say or do something. But as if she could read him perfectly, she gave him and smile before standing from the edge of the bed. 

'Back in bed, Mulder.' She said as she turned, watching them both once more. Mulder smiled as he staggered slightly besides Will's bed. 

'Always the boss.' Mulder said with a smile, a youthful gleam in his features. But as if knowing better than to argue with Scully, he moved back towards his own bed, sitting down with an aged groan which he tried to keep from escaping. 

Scully followed Einstein and Skinner from the room, her eyes fixed on William until they were blocked from view. 

'I have no idea what's going on around me.' Will found himself saying, more to the air than to Mulder. But Mulder responded with a chuckle, followed by another cough and a wheeze. 

'Welcome to the club, son.' Mulder said light heartily. Will turned at the word 'son', but Mulder was watching the wall opposite him.


	11. Chapter 11

Mulder had fallen asleep once Einstein had given him some pain relief medication. The stem cell surgery had taken the strength out of him. Scully had sat on the side of his bed and spoke of how they would both need what strength they could get, as they would be moving at nightfall. 

William watched her speak, but didn't hear many things. He stared at her face, studying its edges and shapes. Her smile was tired, but bright when she looked at him, as if he was a new face every time that she enjoyed seeing. He too was given the pain medication, yet he couldn't fall asleep. He didn't want to – as terrifying as the past events were, he still believed if this were a dream he would not be able to cope. It was his inability to sleep that gave Scully the idea to bring his friends in. 

Both looked exhausted as could be. Isaac had several small cuts above his eye, and Dexter's glass lens had a small crack. 

'He snores like you do.' Dexter said, glancing at Mulder in the next bed. Will grinned slightly, pulling himself upright. Once explaining who Mulder and Scully were, neither Isaac or Dexter could fathom it. He couldn't himself, really. He'd lay there, thinking of how impossible, crazy, absurd every thing had been. Mulder and Scully seemed to take it in their stride, yet Will couldn't wrap his head around it. 

'Give over.' Will stated, Isaac grinned and Dexter rolled his eyes behind the cracked glass. 

The time was limited. Scully had organised transport for both of Will's friends to return to Wyoming. They had protested greatly, but Will privately agreed. Things in the future looked dangerous. And his friends had succeeded in their task – Will had met his birth parents, even if it was in the most peculiar of circumstances, But somehow it was easier than Will spontaneously knocking on someone's door proclaiming them to be his parents. 

'We can stay you know, where ever it is your going next.' Isaac suggested. 'There is something going on, something big. And that smoking guy could try and get you again.'

'Don't think he'd let him.' Will said, nodding towards a sleeping Mulder. 'I heard him talking with Scully of what he would like to do to the guy – not a pretty picture, believe me.'

'But all this stuff going on, how many conspiracies have been proven right in the last week?' Dexter said.

'Seriously dude?' Isaac said, Will laughing. 'You better not be keeping score.' Dexter shrugged, 

'Still, you guys have to go home. Your parents probably want to murder you as it is. Scully had sent a medical team to the town hospital – the virus isn't spreading anymore, but other places aren't too good. You really ought to, you know?' Isaac nodded in silence, Dexter not meeting his eye. There was a light knock on the door. Scully and Byers stood outside. 

'We managed to get a car.' Scully said, stepping in. She quickly busied herself with Will's IV line. 'You'll be taken straight home. You'll be safe, I promise.' The three boys nodded, accepting this was a goodbye. 

'Hell, when this blows over, we're coming straight back.' Dexter said, a small yet worn out smile on his face. He grasped Will's hand, before turning away and heading towards Byers. 

'Guess I'll see you round, Van de Kamp. Or, whatever your name even is.' Isaac laughed. Will grinned. 

'See you round Akimado. And when this is over, I want my computer games back.' Isaac pulled a face. 

'After all this, you still can't let me beat your high score, can you?' Will shrugged with a smile, and grasped Isaac's hand before his two best friend's left the ward for the safety of home. 

William listened to their fading footsteps, and let loose a deflated sigh. Scully sat down besides him on the edge of the bed. 

'I promise they will get home safe. We can't risk taking them with us, you understand why?' She asked softly, smoothing down his hair. 

'Yeah, I get it.' Will said. 'They just came this far, and I don't know how I'm supposed to go on without them. We're normally stuck together.' Scully smiled at him. 

'At least they will be safe. What happens next will be dangerous, I won't lie. And I know you won't want your friends to be hurt.' Will nodded, and Scully rested her hand on his cheek. 'Try and get some rest. We will be moving soon, and you will need your strength. I'll go and find you some food, okay?' She rose from the bed and made to leave, until Will grabbed her hand. 

'What's going to happen, well, after all this, you know?' He asked. He wasn't sure if he meant the next step in this predicament, or after the catastrophe had ended. For a while, he believed he would be forced to return to Wyoming, but Scully's eyes told him she wouldn't let him leave her side. 

'I want to believe we will find answers. After that...try and live what lives we can.' She smiled down at him before moving from the ward. In the next bed, Mulder's snores were lightening. 

Will tried his best to gain sleep. Or any form of rest. But whenever he closed his eyes, images burned and his head would begin to ache. Noises and voices he would never be able to pin seemed to whisper and were painful. They screamed in his ear, and all he could make out was burning. Everything. Everyone. That was why he could not keep his eyes closed. He lay in the bed, his face half buried in the pillow so whenever Scully unnecessarily checked his temperature or IV line, she would believe he was asleep. 

In the space of sleep, William focused on thinking of the circumstances that led him here. His burning home was always the first thing to spring to mind. Had none of that occurred, had the Van de Kamp's been permitted to continue with their lives, it was strange to think of how ordinary everything would be. School. Home. Friends. Life. All the little domestic life choices he'd never seriously contemplated were now burnt. The future he'd had in Hanker, Wyoming, with his parents and friends were forever gone. 

When Mulder stopped snoring and began to wake, Will continued to fake sleep. He wasn't deliberately listening in, he simply believed Mulder and Scully would have a lot to talk about, things they wouldn't discuss in front of him. 

'We've got a pilot on standby.' He heard Scully speak quietly, Will keeping his eyes firmly closed. The burning continued behind his closed lids, even if he wasn't asleep, but tried his best to ignore it. 'I don't want to wake him, but we will have to move soon. Einstein's getting Miller up. He's still a bit weak, but another round whilst on the plane and he should recover fully. Once we get to the base, I can work on the cure, although I'm not sure how we're to get it globally distributed.' 

'Are you okay, Scully?' He heard Mulder's gruff voice ask. 'He isn't going to disappear if you turn around.' There was a slight hint of humour in Mulder's words, but Scully didn't laugh. 

'I wanted him to stay safe. I gave im away because I was scared, Mulder. The longer he was around me, the more dangerous his life became. I sent him away to be safe. And it didn't work.'

There was a rustle of sheets, and William presumed Mulder had wrapped his arms around Scully. The two stayed silent, and William continued to pretend. He just hoped he would have enough strength for whatever it was they would have to do next. 

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Both Dexter and Isaac had been quiet during the car journey. Neither of them able to easily understand the transition between the strange adventure and back into their normal lives. But as the car was suddenly charged at along the abandoned highway, they knew their normal lives were far from existence. 

The large car was forced onto its side, their driver soon after ripped form the seat. The gunshot echoed among the broken glass and smell of burnt rubber. The two bys had been thrown form their seats, and were groggily trying to retain consciousness. Dexter's glasses were now completely broken, and Isaac's head throbbed as he tried to make sense of their surroundings. 

'What-?' Before Dexter could ask, they were wrenched from the car and onto the road, being forced onto their knees. Three cars were stationary behind theirs, one of the three clearly the one which rammed them. Men with guns were poised besides each car, and from the middle of the three, the rear doors opened, and a trail of light smoke lifted into the sky. 

'What a shame this is.' The cigarette smoke reached them and lifted into the breeze, and the frail old man before them smiled some what coldly down at them. 'I was expecting a little more for all this trouble.' The tube in his neck was blocked by the next inhale from the cigarette, and he breathed the smoke out as easily as air. 

'It's your friend I'm looking for. I would hate for this to end in an unpleasant manner.' 

With a gun pressed to his temple, Isaac stayed silent, his eyes slowly glancing between his friend and the man with the cigarette lit between his fingers. Dexter glanced up at the man, and spat two words which his mother would have slapped him for saying. 

The man flicked the burnt out cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath the sole of his shoe. 

'Your loyalty to your friend gives you credit. But it is a pity that the loyalty is misplaced. I will find him, don't you worry about that one boys.' The man turned on his heel, and gave an instinctive nod towards one of his men. As the cigarette smoking man climbed back into the car, two gun shots rang out across the highway. 

He proceeded to light another.


End file.
